The World is Free
by Fedora Kid
Summary: The sequel to The Omega Project, and the final installment in the ORNWOR Trilogy. With the free world on the verge of collapse, Sly must go back and confront the evil mastermind behind it all in a final fight to the death.
1. Prologue

Prologue

**Disclaimer: Fedora Kid doesn't own Sly Cooper. Those rights belong solely to its respective creators and distributors: Sony Computer Entertainment America and Sucker Punch Productions.**

**Rating: T, but the highest kind of T, for one particular chapter towards the end that features a graphic scene of torture.**

_Failure._

_A seven-letter word that packs more punch than a shotgun to the chest. It is a word that can mean several different things to different people. To some, it may mean missing a few questions on an Algebra test. To some, it may mean showing up to work too late and being fired by your boss for it. To some, it may mean not being enough for your girlfriend and listening to her tell you that it's over._

_But the kind of failure that I was faced with was far greater than anything else you could possibly imagine in your entire life._

_Six months ago, we had learned that ORNWOR – the Organization for New World Order and Regime – was not done. They had a back-up plan. A second weapon. The Second Death Ray, otherwise known as The Omega Project. It made the Second Clockwerk look like a moth. It was over half a mile high, with an entire army of high-speed, well-armored, and well-armed blimps inside, as well as an equally large army of armed personnel, with guns ranging from revolvers to rocket-launchers._

_Above all, it had a laser. A very special laser that could be emitted from the two horrible yellow eyes, that could take out an entire area of land equal to the amount of damage done by the common atomic bomb. Similarly, it left a heavy cloud of nuclear fallout everywhere it struck._

_That Death Ray was so heavily armored, it was impossible to stop. The only way me, Bentley, and Murray were able to get in was when they kidnapped us. The only reason we even found out about that thing was pure happenstance. We were on our way to the Krak-Karov Volcano in response to a series of nightmares that I had been having, which I eventually considered visions, or divine messages, that told me to return there for closure. We were traveling over Russian airspace in a stolen blimp when we encountered them._

_It was there that, despite being in the middle of the lion's den, surrounded by enemy forces, in an impregnable flying fortress, we managed to remain hidden, kill one of the five commanding officers, and steal a large series of blueprints for the Death Ray. However, as we made the final run back to our escape blimp, we suffered perhaps the most agonizing loss since Penelope. Murray was killed by a guard's throwing knife…thrown by a guard whom I had just been fighting, and made the mistake of leaving alive since I was running out of time. That was the first failure. At the very last moment, just as we were heading for safety, the strongest of us was taken down._

_We managed to escape, and through his sorrow and rage, Bentley managed to pull it together and study those blueprints thoroughly for nearly four whole days before he thought he found a weakness._

_It was just as the Death Ray started to approach Paris when the United Nations launched a full-scale aerial assault on the Death Ray, the two armies colliding at once. We ascended in our escape blimp and tried to get Bentley's RC Chopper inside the Death Ray through the open hangar doors, to plant a small but powerful bomb in the main nuclear reactor of the Death Ray. We had pulled a similar attack on the Command Blimp – the largest blimp in the entire army – and destroyed it, killing another one of the commanding officers. When they realized that destruction via infiltration was taking place, they sealed off the Death Ray completely, but not before we barely managed to get the chopper inside. However, the RC Chopper and its payload were discovered and destroyed by a squad that had been sent to intercept it. After that, with no options left, we could only flee the scene as they delivered the final blow, which, while destroying their own blimp army, would also crush the enemy and deal them a serious blow with the destruction of the entire aerial army and the headquarters of Interpol's French Branch._

_We realized what was happening and fled the area before they fired the laser. We managed to escape, but we might as well have died._

_Our attempt at destroying the Death Ray had failed. Our hideout and most of our equipment were destroyed with the rest of Paris. Now, nothing could stop that Death Ray._

_For six long, agonizing months, it has been something out of a movie, or post-apocalyptic novel. That thing has rampaged all over the world. It has evaded detection due to apparently being equipped with a massive silencer that made it invisible on radar. Whenever it was found, its massive array of machine guns and missiles would destroy any craft that approached. Several attempts were made to launch nuclear weapons against it, but on all four attempts, the bombs would mysteriously detonate whenever the Death Ray was just approaching the edge of its blast radius. The world has been powerless to stop it. It tore across Europe, firing its laser upon every capital and major city in its path. Paris, London, Madrid, Dublin, Stockholm, Berlin, Budapest, Prague, Vienna, Warsaw, Athens, Madrid, Rome, and so many, many others. Then it headed back to Russia, taking out Moscow, among others. It continued further East. Beijing, Hong Kong, Tokyo, even heading into the Southeast for Calcutta, and the Middle East for Islamabad, Kabul, Tehran, Baghdad, Damascus, and Jerusalem, among others. It even briefly went over North Africa for Cairo, Tripoli, and Rabat, among others._

_Over just 6 months, it has completely terrorized the Eastern Hemisphere and a vast majority of the civilized world, wiped out the world's largest, most populated, and most significant cities, toppled governments, and killed millions. Some say that the death toll has easily hit two billion, perhaps two and a half, perhaps even three billion. What little remains of the international community's leadership, Prime Ministers, Presidents, and ambassadors, have all fled West to the United States for shelter. Along with the US, the only countries still not affected are located in the Western Hemisphere – Canada, Mexico, the Caribbean region, and South America. The one other unaffected country is Australia. But it won't be long before it heads there and takes out the remaining nations. It doesn't even need to bother with Australia or South America, for that matter. Once it hits the United States, the free world as we know it is done for._

_And us? The Cooper Gang, and the only ones who could've stopped this thing from the inside, in its moment of weakness?_

_We have failed._

_We have run away._

_And we have gone into…_

…_hiding._


	2. Collaboration

Collaboration

_Washington D.C., United States of America; Wednesday, June 19__th__, 2008, 6:27 P.M.…_

The German Shepherd moved swiftly down the hall, with half a dozen aides swarming around him, and some even trailing behind him.

"I'm telling you, it's the only way to go…"

"If you try that, the anti-war nuts will be all over you…"

"As surprising as it is, some lunatics actually oppose trying to attack that thing…"

"Mr. President, I have your speech right here, but it's kind of last-minute…"

With a single hand raised up into the air, he silenced all of them at once, slipped through the door, and quickly pressed it shut behind him. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he leaned back against the door, his eyes caught halfway between the wall at the opposite end of the room and the ceiling above him. But he had caught a glimpse of the one other occupant of the room.

"Well, Dick…at least I know how JFK felt during the Cuban Missile Crisis."

"You kidding? This makes October of 1962 look like a bad round of golf." He placed a hand on his forehead and closed his eyes.

Bush silently strode across the Oval Office, past the Resolute Desk, and up to the windows, hands in his pockets as he looked out over the White House lawn to Pennsylvania Avenue outside.

"It really makes me miss the days when the biggest thing I had to worry about was accidentally shooting someone."

"Or protestors."

"Sir?" Cheney pulled his hand away and turned to the President.

"Like those right out front."

Sure enough, there was, as always, a flood of protestors outside the black fence, with picket signs and chants never wavering.

"BUSH IS WEAK."

"END OF BUSH = END OF THE ATTACKS."

"OBAMA/CLINTON = BBB: BRING BACK BACKBONE."

"Ugh." Bush shook his head. "The only thing they're missing is…Oh, wait. There's a Ron Paul sign. How the hell can they wave around signs about the election when the entire Eastern Hemisphere is being blown off the map?"

"Eh, I give 'em credit for dedication. But they seriously believe that when you leave in January, we'll actually see the end of this second holocaust."

"Well, excuse me if this wasn't as easy as overthrowing the Taliban or Hussein."

"Or Hitler."

"I wish. God, what I'd give to be Reagan or Eisenhower right about now."

"Hell, perhaps we should've conceded to Gore."

"Where the hell are Bob and Condi?"

Just then, Secretary of Defense Robert Gates and Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice came in, causing the two men already in the room to turn around. The buzz of voices outside briefly flowed in through the open door before it was shut again.

"Sorry we're late, Mr. President." Gates hurriedly explained.

Bush held up a single hand. "Never mind it. What have you got?"

"Josh managed to fend off the Joint Chiefs, but they really want your answer, sir." Gates continued.

"Either that or your head on a silver platter." Rice added.

"Now that might be a little easier." Bush muttered.

"I'd like to see them try to make the decision themselves." Cheney added discontentedly.

"If it were up to them, they'd just launch our entire nuclear arsenal at 'em."

"Yeah, just for them to explode right over New York?" Bush retorted.

"Exactly. We still have no clue how the hell that keeps happening…"

"FOUR times!" Cheney shouted, slamming his fist on the couch's armrest. "FOUR times the bombs 'mysteriously' go off before that thing's even in range. They must have some kind of, I don't know, detection system somehow…it must alert them to the presence of nuclear bombs and…I don't know…set 'em off?"

"If that's true, then what else do they have? Jetpacks? Time travel?"

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"Look, this is all just too much to handle for right now."

"Sir, if you keep putting it off, it'll only make the moment of decision harder…and riskier." Gates commented.

"I know, I know. But sometimes, the best decision is the one that's made on your own terms, not on someone else's. Alright?"

"I understand, sir. Should that be our answer for the press?"

"At this point, I couldn't give less of a damn what Chris Matthews thinks. Let 'em verbally tear me a new one. They can go to sleep tonight not having the fate of the free world on their shoulders."

"Alright. Let's go, Condi."

With a final, despondent look back, the two Secretaries left the Oval Office, and only Bush and Cheney remained.

Bush sat down on the couch across from his Vice President, both hands covering his face.

"God, just please give me a miracle. Either that or just kill me now."

"One of those can be arranged."

Both men instantly jerked their heads up at the new voice that responded to Bush's comment. They looked around frantically, but saw not a single other soul in the room.

"You're lucky that I don't put much stock in American politics, because this would be a little bit harder for me to stomach. But as a non-citizen, I could care less about whether you're a Democrat or a Republican."

"What the hell is this?" Cheney stood up. "I'm calling in the agents."

"Do that, and I'll be gone in an instant…along with your only chance to destroy that thing."

At this, the Vice President stopped halfway to the door and turned back in the direction he thought the voice was coming from, but found himself looking at President Bush, who still stood in the middle of the room in shock.

"Say again?"

"You heard me."

"And I'd like a face to go with that sense of humor. Show yourself." Cheney demanded.

"Only if you agree that we will be the only three men in this room for quite a while. We can't have any wild cards."

"Disembodied voices are wild enough, don't you think?"

"I'll gladly show myself if you promise no tricks."

After a pause, Bush spoke for the first time since the voice appeared. "There will be no tricks. We're not Democrats, remember?"

With a faint chuckle, the voice responded. "Fair enough."

Then, in an instant, the figure appeared halfway between the Resolute Desk and where Bush was standing. It wore a long, black cape accompanied by a hood that completely covered its head and face. In addition to the cape, the figure wore a blue shirt with a yellow collar and yellow belt. As it spoke again, it continued using a deep, fairly scratchy voice to address the two most powerful men in the country.

"Now, listen very carefully. I don't like to repeat myself, and I don't have much time as it is."

"Who are you?" Cheney asked defensively.

"My identity does not matter. That much needs to be said only once. If you knew who I was, you'd probably discredit everything that I have to tell you. But at this point, we are all united in a common cause: The cause of freedom for the surviving world. And, as President of the freest nation in the history of the world, I'm sure you'd agree?"

"I suppose so." President Bush responded half-heartedly.

"Now, I have with me a briefcase…"

The figure held out a briefcase that had previously been contained underneath the cape. He held out the brown case before the two men, holding it at an arm's length from himself.

"Not to worry, it's no bomb or anything dangerous. And just to prove it, I'll open it myself."

The figure then slowly reached out and, while holding the case with one hand, it flipped open the two golden latches with the other, then slowly opened the case. It then turned the case around to reveal the contents to the President and Vice President.

It contained a series of blue papers, some folded over neatly into squares, some rolled up, and some overlapping each other.

"These are blueprints."

"Blueprints?" Cheney responded skeptically.

"Blueprints." The figure repeated with slight annoyance. "These are not just any blueprints, however. These are blueprints for that machine. Blueprints from just about every angle, covering all the significant details, big and small. You do not need to know how these were acquired, or when. But what you do need to know is the acquisition of these blueprints cost many, many lives. Including the life of one of my comrades, one of my allies…one of my friends. So treat these with care, if you please."

As the figure said this, it held the case out in front of him and slowly approached Bush. Once he was just outside arm's length from the President, he gestured for Bush to take the case for himself. With only slight hesitation, the President reached out and took the case, looking closely at the blueprints for himself.

"These have already been heavily analyzed by the best of the best, who is another friend of mine. But feel free to hand these over to anyone you may consider 'experts.'" The figure made his distaste of the last word very clear in his tone. "But it would be worthless, as the ultimate weakness of this thing has already been discovered. That is where this thing comes into play."

The figure slowly reached back into its cape and withdrew a small, circular, metallic device with a single green light situated on top. Noticing Cheney's startled reaction, the figure was quick to reassure them once again. "Relax. It's only a hologram projector. I insist that you watch it."

Setting the device down on the nearest table, the figure pressed a single button on the side. Out of the green light emitted a holographic image, with the pixels matching the green color of the light on top. A figure soon took form in the pixels, but also with a hood covering its face. A voice began to speak from the device, with the computerization only marginally reducing the wheeziness of the subject's original voice.

"Greetings. I assume that, if you are watching this, then my partner here was successful, and I now have an audience with President Bush and Vice President Cheney. First, let me say that it's an honor to be speaking with both of you gentlemen, albeit one-sidedly. But I must get down to business. What I am about to tell you is extremely crucial, sensitive, and time-significant information that can only benefit you, me, and the rest of the free world. As my associate has already told you, these are blueprints of the machine that has destroyed so much, which is officially titled 'The Omega Project'."

As the voice gave the name of the machine, the image of the hooded head was replaced by a digital image of the Death Ray, as it appeared in the blueprints, which slowly rotated in endless circles while an X-rayed view began stripping away the outer parts and showing the inner mechanisms. The voice continued with its narration.

"As you already know, it has the same destructive capability of the average nuclear bomb, but can stay airborne nearly indefinitely. It is also invisible on radar, impenetrable, defended by heavy artillery, and able to set off any nuclear bombs within a certain radius long before the explosives could hit it. Thus, it appears to be indestructible.

"However, I may have found the solution to destroying this machine once and for all. Now this machine is able to stay airborne for a number of reasons: Propellers, jet propulsion, etc. However, above all else, I have found the main source of its self-sustainability: Magnetic energy. Reversed magnetic energy, to be precise. You see, when you try to press two magnets of the same energy together, they always repel."

As the figure said this, the images of two horseshoe-shaped magnets, each marked with a + sign, appeared in the projection and moved slowly towards each other. Electric rays shot back and forth between them, pressing them further away from each other.

"And the planet Earth is like a giant magnet, but with two opposite magnetic poles at opposite ends. Each pole, of course, is located in the Northern Hemisphere and Southern Hemisphere."

A globe appeared next, with small sticks protruding from the top and bottom to illustrate this next point.

"Thus, each hemisphere has its own magnetic energy. The Omega Project has been equipped with a magnetic energy matching the magnetic energy of the Northern Hemisphere. Due to its massive size and the concentrated power of the magnetic energy, it is able to stay high above the surface of the Earth purely due to the sheer power of the repelling magnetic forces.

"It would only make sense that the magnetic energy match that of the Northern Hemisphere. Why, you may ask? Well, as evident by the last six months, the Omega Project has only struck cities in the Northern Hemisphere. But that's because all of the world's major cities, capitals, and other sensitive targets are only located in the Northern Hemisphere. Europe, the Middle East, the Far East, North Africa…and North America, which, fortunately, is still yet to be attacked.

"But it wouldn't dare go into the Southern Hemisphere. Again, it doesn't need to. But if it were to so much as move several yards over the Equator, its energy would be opposite that of the portion of the Earth below it. Thus, it would instantly have the opposite effect and drag the machine straight down towards the Earth at a startling speed, aside from the massive weight of the machine itself. The impact, whether against land or water, would be more than sufficient to destroy it completely.

"That, gentlemen, is the plan I have come up with. We must find a way to trick and/or lure the Omega Project into the Southern Hemisphere. Only then will it be rendered useless and completely destroyed. Of course, I alone am unable to devise the specific way we can lure the machine into the dangerous area, but that is what I am leaving up to you. After all, the United States undoubtedly has the greatest – and not to mention the last – intelligence community on the face of the Earth. You should be able to come up with something, but do so very quickly. As we speak, the United States and the free world are running out of time."

And with that, the image vanished completely.

"You can keep that." The figure in the room said as it gestured to the deactivated device.

And with that, the figure turned and moved back towards the desk.

"Wait a minute!" Cheney called out.

"I would if I had a minute." The figure responded.

"How are we supposed to believe any of this? Any of what you're spewing?"

The figure continued moving, walking slowly around the desk and towards the window.

"Hey! Don't you walk away from me, you little-."

But the figure suddenly vanished, disappearing from sight just as suddenly as it had first appeared.

…

_I knew that going in there would yield few results and little cooperation. I was lucky that Cheney didn't just throw open the door and unleash the Secret Service on me. But it had to be done. Bentley and I had already agreed that it was time to extend our efforts beyond just our own two minds. As much as we both feared the response – or lack of one – from the U.S. government, we knew that it was time to hand off that problem to a larger group of intelligent individuals, who had the equipment, the authority, and the time to use it._

_And with that off our backs, we were free to focus on a more personal – but equally important – mission._


	3. Reconnaissance

Reconnaissance

_Krak-Karov Volcano, Russia; Sunday, June 23__rd__, 2008, 8:31 P.M.…_

The sun had long since set over the distant, remote, and uninhabited valley in eastern Russia where a certain dormant Volcano was situated. It was dark, especially with the trail of smoke towering out of the Volcano's crater blotting out many stars. And it was even darker with the trees surrounding the two figures on all sides as they stood at the precipice of the crater-like valley. The light from the moon and stars barely shone through, save for the single clearing where they had landed their blimp…the same clearing where, three years ago, their previous main vehicle had been parked. The exact location brought back rather painful memories, but both had to shake those thoughts away and focus on the task at hand.

The valley itself, where the Volcano sat silently and where the massive structure used to be, there was practically nothing. The previous eruption had removed nearly all traces of life, having scorched the earth below it so much so that even grass didn't grow back. There was not a single insect or small animal, and certainly not any intelligent or civilized life forms. Where the long expanse of the main building had been, there was now only a long, scorched, black line in the ground, with faded, pitch-black lines along the foundations of where the building had been, almost like a faint retracing of the structure that once stood there. The massive hangar that had housed the Second Clockwerk was also destroyed, but had managed to stay out of range of the lava flow. As such, there were some faint remnants of the lowest portions of the building's four walls, as well as the basic foundation. Up on the side of the Volcano, just next to the massive vertical fissure through which the wall of lava had poured through, there were several surviving fragments of the elevator shaft that had led straight down into the factory (also completely gone), and, with closer inspection, several more remains of structures at the top of the shaft; the location of the Commander's quarters.

Bentley lowered the bino-cu-com apparatus back down into the armrest of his wheelchair and turned to face Sly.

"Seems clear to me. No sign of any life forms down there. And there are only a few minimal remains left down there. Not a lot to investigate."

Sly looked from his friend back out to the massive valley below.

"Alright." He nodded.

Then he turned back to the device that was perched on the ground nearby, aimed at the edge of the cliff.

"And remind me again why I have to use a hang-glider for this instead of the regular paraglider?"

"Because this thing allows you to remain airborne for a significantly longer period of time than the paraglider would. You can also guide it much more easily, turn it around more quickly, and either rise or fall with your shift in body direction. With the paraglider, you would only go down and could, at most, hinder the descent."

"But, of course, this one's a lot harder to control."

"Not harder, just something you're not as used to. You've done this before."

"The last time I've used one of these things was Leningrad…and that was almost 20 years ago!"

"But at least this time, you won't have Soviets firing on you like you were JFK himself, right? There's _nothing_ down there."

Sly turned around and looked back down into the gaping valley.

He sighed.

"Hopefully, there _is_ something down there…just not a something with a machine gun."

Bentley wheeled up to his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You'll do fine, pal."

…

Sly had just finished strapping himself into the hang-glider's harness, and was carefully lining the device up with the longest precipice that he could launch off of.

"Oh, and Sly!"

Sly turned around slightly as Bentley wheeled up to him, carrying a large, dark-gray, full-covered helmet in his hands.

"You may want to wear this."

Sly reached out and took it.

"Looks like something a Stormtrooper might wear."

"It looks a little old, I know. But it's very handy. It's a gas mask."

Sly turned sharply back to him.

"It's been a long time since all that Karovanine dissolved and released its gas…but you never know, right? Just in case. And it's even got a special, built-in communicator directly inside the mouthpiece. I've already synched it to our channel. You don't have to hold your ear or anything."

Sly slipped the mask up over his head and secured it.

"You mean like this?" He spoke, his voice coming through on Bentley's earpiece with a bit more scratchiness to it.

"Perfect." He backed up. "Alright, you're all clear."

He held up the thumbs-up. Sly nodded, and then focused his attention once more on the valley ahead.

He took a long, slow, deep breath, then closed his eyes. After a few seconds, he slowly exhaled, and then began running the glider forward, straight towards the edge of the cliff, gaining as much speed as possible.

Bentley had barely reached the railing of the blimp before turning around again, only to see that Sly and the glider were already gone.

…

Sly shoved off from the edge, leaping out into the open, several hundred feet above the valley floor. For a few seconds, time seemed to stop.

And then he was soaring straight through the air. Although the wind was dead, the speed at which he flew resulted in the slightest of howls of the wind around his mask. He maintained a steady altitude, cruising over the black lines marking where the main facility had been, the remains of the hangar off to the right. The Volcano was still directly ahead.

"You read me?" Bentley asked.

"Loud and clear, pal. I'm airborne. Directly over the location of the facility now. I'll make a first round circling the whole valley, then I'll decide where to move in first."

"Roger."

Sly turned the glider ever so gracefully towards the right, now positioning himself somewhere between the remains of the hangar and the location of the facility. The Volcano was now on his left. He maintained a steady altitude, roughly 50 feet above the peak of the Volcano.

Once it was all definitely behind him, he began leaning his body to the left, turning the glider gracefully in that direction and beginning to circle around. The Volcano, still on his left and below him, was now the closest landmark to him. Other than those three major things, the valley itself was completely empty. Sly couldn't see a single flicker of movement, couldn't hear a single sound except the wind in his ears, couldn't smell a thing except the musky scent of the old mask. There had never been any trees on the valley floor, and even the grass had long since burned up in the incident three years ago, either directly by the lava itself or by its heat. The lava had completely ruined the crust of the earth beneath the valley floor, destroying any chance at any plant life replenishing. It was as if the entire valley was completely devoid of even the smallest particles of life…which it very well may have been.

"Sly, how's your altitude?"

"Right on course. I'm making the first circle around the valley, getting a closer look at the Volcano itself."

Sly circled around, peering down into the crater of the Volcano. The lava was still there, albeit at a significantly lower level than it had been three years ago. Thus, the smoke trailing from the crater was far less dense than before, and the heat could barely reach him where he was. The very faint orange glow from the lava was the only source of light in the entire area except for the stars and the half-moon above him. As if the Volcano was a single beacon of life in a valley of death.

He then moved closer to the front of the Volcano, and there he saw the flat slab of rock on the edge of the Volcano where the first few remnants of the Commander's quarters were still standing. Though a vast majority of the chamber – right down to its foundation – had broken away from its perch on the peak of the Volcano, there were still a few pieces left behind, particularly the thick metal rods protruding from the rock, and a few broken slabs of metal that stubbornly clung onto most of those rods. Once he passed by the front side of the Volcano, he saw the few fragments of the elevator shaft that still narrowly clung to the side of the mountain; one larger fragment at the very top, right by where the chamber had been, and two more about halfway down, separated by a few feet and significantly smaller than the top fragment.

"Alright, I've done a complete round. Seems pretty straight-forward. I'll move in on the remains at the top of the Volcano first."

"Roger that."

Sly continued straight forward for a while until he had put enough distance between himself and the Volcano. He then began turning to the left, turning slowly around just before the valley wall and eventually pointing right back at the Volcano itself.

He closed in on the summit of the Volcano, but realized that he was still significantly higher than the flat rock plateau that he was aiming to land on. If he tried to land now, he would hit the rock at too steep an angle.

Mumbling to himself, he began dipping down towards the Volcano. He soared over the rim of the crater, roughly 20 feet below him, and soon disappeared from Bentley's view inside the crater.

"Sly, what are you doing?"

"I need to come around again for a better landing."

"Just watch the rocks."

"The thought had occurred to me."

Sly was now soaring along the inside of the Volcano wall, the lava emitting an orange glow ominously below him. Gone was the cold, eerie air of the dark valley outside and around the Volcano, now replaced by the very warm air inside the brighter Volcano.

He turned much more sharply to the left as the wall began curving, hoping to keep a steady distance between himself and the rock wall. Once or twice, he gritted his teeth as he drew nearer to a jutting rock and feared scraping along it. However, once he nearly finished the circle, and was now aiming straight up at the flat rock platform, he released a quick sigh and leveled out.

"Guess I've still got it." He mumbled.

"What was that, Sly? I didn't read you."

"I'm going in."

Sly then began leaning back, lifting his body up in order to raise the glider's altitude ever so slightly, while still pointing directly up at the platform.

He gritted his teeth once more.

_I've got only one shot at this…_

And then, in an instant, he was up and over the flat rock. Quickly dropping his body weight and dipping down, the glider dropped and landed on the smooth rock, the wheels on the underside of the metal bar now rolling along the surface.

"Sly, what's going on?"

Sly continued rolling along, narrowly avoiding some of the pieces of remaining metal. He dragged his feet along the rock, but it appeared to be insufficient. The glider was still rolling along at an alarming rate, and the edge was drawing closer.

"Sly?"

Sly then saw a small fissure in the rock directly ahead, right along the edge. He then noticed his Cane, still hooked between the bars, and got a single, quick idea.

With one hand still firmly gripping the bar, Sly grabbed the Cane with his other hand, laying it across the bar with the hooked part in his hand, and the bottom of the staff sticking out.

He waited a few more seconds as he drew closer to the fissure, and the edge.

Then, just as he was over it, he shoved the bottom of the staff forward and directly into the large crack, at the same time hooking the hooked part back behind one of the metal bars. The stiff Cane, now caught between the fissure and the metal rods of the glider, held firm and jolted the entire apparatus to a halt, barely a foot from the edge.

"Sly?"

Sly, who had been holding his breath this entire time, finally exhaled.

"Yes…I'm here. I just made the landing."

Unstrapping himself from the glider, Sly stood up and retrieved his Cane. He stopped for a moment to look over the edge, down along the ruined rock wall of the Volcano, including the piles of jagged rocks at the bottom – the pieces of the wall that had been blown out – and the long black stain on the ground extending outward from the Volcano's base.

Turning back around, Sly did a quick once-over of the entire platform. As expected, there wasn't much to see – thick metal rods, some clinging to entire portions of metal, but the rock itself flat and bare. Certainly no sign of anything that could prove useful in their search.

"Anything interesting?"

"Not really. Just some pieces of the foundation…"

But there was still hope.

Sly strode over to an area on the left, where he hoped it was still intact…

…sure enough, wedged between two rocks, at the very edge of the flat plateau, there was the opening to the garbage chute. The hatch was long gone, but the shaft was still there.

"But I found the garbage chute. This could provide something."

"And I don't suppose you want to go down it the same way you did last time?"

Sly chuckled and shook his head.

"Unfortunately, I've got no other option. At least this time, on the ride down, I know what to expect at the end."

And with that, Sly tucked his Cane into his belt and lifted himself up and into the shaft. He soon let himself fall, feet-first, down the long chute.

He quickly spread out his hands and feet, bracing himself as he continued sliding down the rusty metal chute. He remembered almost every single turn and twist just as he hit them, the memory all too clear in his mind.

As he drew closer, he could once again see the faint orange glow marking the end of the shaft, although it was not nearly as strong. Also, instead of heat flowing in through the open end, it was now cool, fresh air. Nevertheless, he braced for the sudden ejection as he finally reached the end.

Slipping out of the metal chute, he wasted no time as he spun around, whipped out his Cane, and latched the hooked tip of it onto the lower edge of the mouth of the vent, swinging off the metal rim above the rock wall and the significantly longer drop to the surface of the lava below. He looked down below and around him for a few seconds, locking onto a familiar rock ledge, and swung down to it, landing effortlessly.

Hugging the wall, Sly looked around slowly, scanning the entire area for any sign of a fragment of evidence.

Nothing.

With a sigh, Sly turned and looked back up at the metal chute. Slipping the Cane into his belt once again, he knelt down before leaping up, barely catching the bottom edge of it with both hands.

…

Bentley sat at the edge of the cliff, listening for about two or three minutes as Sly grunted with each inch that he struggled to climb as he slowly moved back up the chute. Then, finally, an exhausted, relieved exhalation.

"Alright. I'm out."

"Nothing down there?"

"Nothing."

Sly slowly walked back up to the glider, at the edge of the platform, and looked out over the wide expanse of the Volcano valley. He saw the usual – the charred earth where the lava had taken its toll, the generally brown earth from where the grass had long since died, the outline of the former factory, facility, and hangar…

He glanced off to the left, in the empty vacant space between the Volcano itself and the opposite wall.

More brown earth…

But then he thought he saw something.

"Hold on a minute…"

Sly left the glider behind and walked to the opposite end of the platform, leaning out towards that expanse of the valley. He withdrew his bino-cu-com and placed it to his mask's visor, quickly zooming in.

"What is it, Sly?"

Sly slowly scanned the bino-cu-com up, from the base of the Volcano towards the empty area.

Sure enough, he could see it. He had missed it during his initial overhead flight, probably due to his increased focus on the Volcano itself. But now that the Volcano had yielded no results and his attention had no clear target, he took note of this very faint detail.

"Bentley…Do you see where I am?"

"Yeah."

Sly quickly turned the bino-cu-com to his right and eventually focused on Bentley, standing at the edge of the cliff at the other wall. He could see Bentley looking right back at him with his chair-mounted bino-cu-com.

"Alright. Now follow my direction." Sly ordered.

He then turned his own bino-cu-com back towards the valley floor.

"Down there?" Bentley asked before looking with his own device. "What is it?"

"Look more closely at the coloration of the valley floor. Do you see it?"

"Hang on…"

Soon, Bentley could see it as well. Very faint, but still discernable with the increased zoom on their devices.

Most of the valley surface was a clear brown of dead earth. But in the center of the valley floor, halfway between the Volcano and the crater wall, there was a fairly large patch of earth where the grass seemed to be a greener, livelier shade than the desolate brown around it.

And the large patch was a perfect square.

…

The blimp now settled safely on the valley floor, the two men walked side-by-side up to the edge of the patch.

Sly, having removed the gas mask, slowly knelt down at the border between the green and the brown grass. He took up a small fistful of the brown first, pulling it up and observing it in the open palm of his glove. It was as he expected – dried-up, shriveled brown grass, along with clumps of dirt. He then dropped it and leaned over to take a similar fistful of the greener grass. He pulled up several blades of grass that didn't show immediate signs of withering, and with no dirt attached to them.

"Fake." Sly muttered, dropping the fake grass and slowly standing up.

Bentley wheeled up to the green grass and pressed a button on his chair's armrest. A small, flat, plate-like device on a rod extended from the side of his chair. He directed it with a small joystick, and as soon as the plate moved over the green grass, a high-pitched beeping began emitting from Bentley's chair.

He retracted the device and looked up at Sly.

"It's metal."

"How can we get it open?"

"Uh…"

Bentley flipped open the latch and checked his bomb storage compartment in his chair.

"It's pretty big, and that metal's probably several inches thick. I don't think my explosives, even planted in the crevices, could do much to open them."

"Well, what about tunneling through the ground just next to it? Then tunneling sideways into whatever opening these are hiding?"

"Um…maybe. I'll see what devices we have onboard that can get us through the ground a considerable distance in a considerably decent amount of time."

Bentley turned around and wheeled back towards the blimp. Sly stood back, observing the full scope of the irregular patch, then slowly craned his neck to look up at the night's sky, taking in the atmosphere for just a moment.

Both men were unaware of the fact that they were being watched.

…

Eventually, with the few supplies that they had brought with them, the two men managed to work out some sort of system that mostly consisted of Sly digging a small hole in the ground, with each one running about a foot and a half deep, and Bentley dropping one of his bombs down into the small hole in order to blow away most of the earth around it, creating for a larger, but still just as deep, crater. Then Sly would continue digging another smaller hole further down to continue their tunnel. After the third dig, which yielded a crater about 5 feet deep, they began tunneling sideways towards the irregular patch. Once they began blasting away the earth just under the border between the brown and green, they could see, taking up the top half of the newly formed sideways-facing hole, the large, square metal hatch that was hiding underneath the fake grass. Below it was a massive, dark abyss. When several rocks were tossed into the abyss, they could only faintly hear the distant impacts against the ground far, far below.

Once the dirt was cleared away to form a large enough entry hole, Bentley grabbed three coils of rope from the blimp. After tying them together to create one long, tight coil, Bentley carefully secured one end to the blimp's railing several yards away with a tight double knot, allowing the rest of the rope to be thrown freely down into the abyss.

Sly took one of the massive floodlights from the blimp in one hand and flicked it on as he aimed it down into the darkness. It created a murky glow in the darkness that didn't penetrate far, but at least provided some light. He slid his Cane into his belt and began easing his way down the rope with the other hand.

As he edged further and further down the rope, he could only pray that the rope was long enough.

After what felt like an eternity, Sly finally found the end of the rope. He aimed the floodlight down and could see the cave floor about 10 feet below him.

With a quick movement, Sly released the rope and fell the remaining 10 feet to the cave floor. He set the floodlight down and aimed it upward.

"MADE IT!" He shouted back up. "TEN FEET TO SPARE!"

His voice echoed back and forth throughout the cave about four times.

"OK!" Bentley's voice shouted back faintly.

Soon, Bentley was accompanying Sly at the bottom of the rope, having brought a second floodlight in addition to the bright lights attached to his chair, providing three massive sources of light.

"This place is massive!" Bentley exclaimed, his voice echoing again.

"Yeah…big enough to hold a 3,000-foot tall monstrosity?" Sly asked rhetorically.

Bentley paused for a moment.

"I think so."

"And you know your geology, don't you?" Sly asked as a follow-up.

"The basics, including rough estimates of dating."

Sly thrust his Cane into a crevice in the rock floor by the stem, then yanked downward on it like a crowbar. This managed to pry loose a chunk of the rock. Sly knelt down and picked up the chunk, handing it to Bentley.

"How old do you think this cave is? There's no way this was here naturally."

"Well, that much is obvious…"

Bentley pulled out his bino-cu-com, with its built-in geological analysis mechanism, and zoomed in on the rock.

Sly waved his floodlight around, as if expecting something to leap out at them from the eternal darkness.

Or maybe expecting to see those horrible massive yellow eyes again.

Sly slowly began walking in the direction towards where their blimp was, high above them.

The ceiling of the cave gradually fell as he approached the edge, creating a perfect unity between the ceiling and the walls, reminiscent of a dome. Sly took note of how perfectly clear and flat the edge was.

"Bentley?" He called out.

"Yeah…I'd say, from this sample and a sample from the wall, that both were carved out at roughly the same time…somewhere between 15 and 20 years."

Sly swallowed.

"They had nearly two decades…two decades of this perfect hiding place…a perfect place to build the world's largest and deadliest machine."

"It would seem so." Bentley's disembodied voice replied grimly.

Sly eventually found one thing that had been left behind, clearly by man, up against the wall of the cave.

A single metal table, up against the rock wall and of the exact same dark blackish-blue color.

"I found something!" Sly shouted.

It wasn't long before Sly could make out Bentley's light bobbing in the darkness as it approached him. The light from the second floodlight remained a small, firefly-like glow in the distance as it remained at the base of the rope.

"Table. Not much, but…"

Sly knelt down and peered under it.

He glanced up, and saw something tucked into the table's underside at one of the corners.

"What is it?"

Sly reached up and carefully slid it out.

He unfolded it once, then twice, then three times, then a fourth time, pulling it to its full extent.

"Oh…my…God."

"What?!" Bentley asked nervously.

Sly slowly turned back around, turning the large piece of paper to face Bentley.

A map of the world, with a series of red lines drawn on it. The first originated at the Krak-Karov Volcano, moving at first in a perfect line due West, then curving down to the South as it first cut straight through the European continent.

And so it was. A series of red lines, lined with directional arrows, all cutting across the globe and passing over the world's major cities, capitals and otherwise.

"Good Lord." Bentley echoed.

…

The two men emerged from the new hole in the ground, switching off their lights. Bentley untied the knot at the blimp's railing, letting the remainder of the rope be pulled away by the weight of its majority as it slinked through the hole like a snake and eventually fell from view.

Sly slowly climbed over the railing, with his Cane in one hand and the altered world map in the other.

"What can we do?" Bentley asked helplessly.

"What can we do?" Sly repeated. "We already used our scot-free ticket to the White House to deliver the schematics. Their security is probably greatly heightened to the point where we can never make another drop-off like that. So this information is a piece that the U.S. government won't be getting."

"But we have to use it for something!" Bentley insisted.

"And we will. We will. But for now…let's just head back."

Bentley, also over the railing and following Sly to the wheelhouse, sighed in temporary defeat.

"Fine."

…

The two men remained crouched in the foliage, one with a sniper rifle and the other with a pair of binoculars.

"_Sollen wir es jetzt tun?"_

The one with the binoculars turned the knob slightly to the right, focusing a little better. The two figures – the raccoon and the wheelchair-bound turtle – were returning to the blimp. The raccoon leapt over the railing first, followed by the turtle. Both had looks of clear despair on their faces, clearly having discovered more than they bargained for on this journey.

"_Ja oder nein?"_

The raccoon opened the door to the wheelhouse.

"_Ja oder nein?"_ The one with the sniper rifle repeated, clear anger and frustration in his voice.

"_Nein_." The one with the binoculars responded. _"Wir haben bereits die_ _Tracking-Gerät gepflanzt. Wir folgen ihnen._"

"_Sehr gut."_

The one with the rifle lowered it and flicked the safety on, slowly turning around and sneaking back towards their vehicle. The one with the binoculars remained behind for just a moment to watch as the door to the wheelhouse closed, the engines and propellers slowly started up, and the blimp lifted up off the ground. It slowly hovered up out of the clearing, and then, once it got its bearings, began moving forward away from the Volcano.

It was heading to the southeast.

...

_What we found certainly wasn't encouraging. It wasn't enough information. All it told us was what we already knew - that the Death Ray was unstoppable, and planned on taking out every major city and every major country's capital in the entire world. But other than that...nothing. The Krak-Karov Volcano Valley was everything it appeared to be at first glance - Barren, desolate, empty...hopeless._

_Tired, despaired, and with no ideas left, we simply had no choice but to return to our new home._

_It was just our luck that our long-awaited chance at action, rather than simply wait for us to find it, would end up coming to us._


	4. Contact

Contact

_Somewhere on the island of Maui, Hawaii; Monday, June 30__th__, 2008, 9:27 P.M.…_

Sly stood on the balcony, leaning over the wooden railing and staring out at the ocean ahead and below him. There were simply no words to express the unbelievable view that he had, and was seeing for the first time ever in his life. The house was situated at the top of a cliff in the center of a small bay, with foliage on each side, and many jagged rocks at the base of the cliff below the balcony, against which the water crashed violently. However, being so high up from the rocks and the waves resulted in the sound that was actually heard being softer and more pleasant, more like the calling of the birds overhead or the wind through his hair.

But even the beauty of the scenery was like a bug to him in comparison to their situation. The search of the Krak-Karov Volcano had yielded nothing, except the fact that they had been played for fools. The fact that the weapon that was now destroying the free world had been literally right under their feet three years ago, and they missed it.

Sly took off his hat and lowered his head. He made a quick wiping motion with the hand holding the hat, supposedly over his brow…although he was really wiping away the slight moisture in his eyes.

Bentley wheeled out the open slider door, into the light breeze and onto the dark wood as he joined his friend.

"Well, Sly? What do you think?"

Sly frantically put his cap back on, sniffing briefly as he lifted his head.

"Yeah, yeah…it's…really beautiful."

"Why thank you. I bought this place about a year after the gang split up. Had it renovated quite nicely…served as a nice vacation getaway for me and Penelope. Although it has the potential to serve as a great new base of operations, whereas the condominium in the city is strictly pleasure."

"I see."

"But of course, this place is much more remote. Not another man-made structure for nearly 10 miles. Much more peaceful."

Bentley wheeled up to the railing, now placed alongside Sly.

"Much more quiet. And much more beautiful."

Bentley folded his arms and laid them on top of the balcony railing.

After a few silent moments of the two friends staring out at the ocean, Bentley turned his head ever so slightly to the right.

"I know what you're thinking, Sly. That we've hit a dead end."

Sly didn't respond.

"But we've got to keep trying. I've got a few more possible leads, and maybe, just maybe…"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Bentley." Sly interrupted.

Bentley simply stared back.

"Just…give yourself a break. You deserve it. Don't overwork yourself."

Bentley didn't know what to say. Take a break? When the fate of the free world was at stake?

At this point, though, Sly was right. Bentley was indeed tired, and too tired to argue about anything.

Without another word, he turned right around and wheeled back into the house.

Sly stood motionless, mute, and unwavering on the balcony. He quickly lost track of time, unsure if he stood there for another minute or another hour after his friend left.

But eventually, he too finally retired for the night.

_2 hours later_…

It was dead silent throughout the house, as the only two occupants in the house were dead silent. There was the slightest rustling of the wind outside, along with the casual soft sounds of waving foliage that it created. The waves crashing against the shoreline was but a very, very faint sound in the distance. The moon was high and bright in the sky, surrounded by the stars and a few scattered clouds.

Inside the house, the loudest sound was the gradual swinging of the pendulum inside the living room's gilded grandfather clock. The hourly set of chimes were no longer a disturbance to the occupants sleeping in their own rooms, isolated in their own worlds of dreams.

Thus, it was through this state of eerie almost-silence that the two new presences slipped inside the house like specters in the night.

Wearing all black and moving as stealthily as ever, one waited just beside the slider door through which they had entered, while the other continued on across the wooden floor, across the occasional carpet, and finally, down the hall.

As he moved past the first closed door, he ever so carefully began to withdraw the knife from its sheath.

Finally arriving at the designated door, he slowly wrapped his fingers around the knob and turned it as slowly and carefully as possible. It seemed like nearly a minute had passed before he could finally push the door open soundlessly, slowly inching it open until the crack was just wide enough for him to slip through soundlessly.

He continued sneaking ever so quietly across the carpeted floor, towards the bed with a single shape lying underneath the covers.

And then, in about another minute, he was upon the bed and the figure lying under the sheets, so perfectly calm, so perfectly still…

Then, in a quick series of motions, he swung the knife up and down ten times, repeatedly stabbing it straight through the head of the figure again and again.

Once he was certain that his target was thoroughly dead, he grabbed the torn, ruined sheets and pulled them back with another swift motion.

There was only a line of pillows, now full of holes and with the feathers spilling out.

Then he heard a crashing of glass outside.

…

The one who had been assigned to guard the door never even saw or heard it coming. The figure moved in from the left, quickly striking him in the side of the head and bringing him to his knees. He turned to try to meet the threat, swinging the knife outward. The figure easily leapt over the blade before swinging his own weapon – a hooked wooden Cane – down on him like a golf club, catching him in the chin and knocking his head up as his body moved backwards, now splayed out on the floor.

The figure took two steps towards him, and he quickly spun around on the floor, kicking his legs out from under him.

In an instant, he leapt back up to his feet and raised the knife above his head.

The figure rolled out of the way as the knife plunged straight down and lodged itself in the wooden floor.

In the brief second where he struggled to pull the knife back out, the figure struck him in the side with his Cane, knocking him over completely and sending his body smashing through the glass slider door.

Sly looked down briefly at the knife, wobbling back and forth slightly as it was still lodged in the floor, before he stepped through the broken frame to continue beating the living daylights out of the would-be assassin.

He saw Cooper approaching him, and thinking quickly, he reached over and picked up the nearest large shard of glass before leaping back to his feet. He remained in a steady crouched position, knees bent and ready to strike out at a moment's notice.

Sly similarly held his Cane in a manner where he could swing it out in less than a split second, waiting for the assassin to make the next move.

As he waited for whatever would happen next, the assassin glanced briefly over his target's shoulder as his comrade emerged from the room, slowly sneaking back down the hall towards their position, approaching Cooper silently from behind.

Trying to not betray his partner's position, he returned his deadly stare to Sly, waving the piece of glass menacingly.

But Sly had already noticed, and was ready to play that game.

Making no effort to disguise his own glance past the assassin's shoulder, he called out loudly.

"He's right here, Murray!"

The assassin panicked and spun his head around to look behind him, expecting to see an unknown comrade of Cooper's behind him.

Then, before he could even look straight forward again, he felt a powerful force grab his left hand, which was still holding the glass, and swiftly break the wrist. Before he could even cry out in pain at this injury, he felt the same force now bend the arm around and shove the broken hand – with the glass still clutched firmly in it – directly into his chest.

A single gasping sputter emerged from his mouth, along with several drops of blood, before he collapsed to the wooden floor of the balcony.

No sooner did the dead assassin's body hit the ground than Sly spun around to meet the new threat of his partner, who lunged through the broken door just as his partner was killed. Sly spread out both arms to catch him mid-jump, but the assassin – in the brief period of time between his exiting the room and jumping out at his target – had retrieved his fallen comrade's knife from the floor, and was now wielding one blade per hand. The force was enough to knock Sly's Cane out of his hand, but he was still able to react quickly enough to grab both of the man's wrists, holding the blades barely at bay.

Sly felt himself losing his footing and stumbling backwards. He had to step very carefully to avoid tripping over the dead assassin, which would easily give the remaining one the chance he needed to run him through with both knives.

Taking the brief leap backwards, Sly was now backed up against the wooden railing, with the dark waters of the crashing surf over a hundred feet below him.

The assassin leaned forward, bringing the blades to within inches of Sly's chest and forehead.

Thinking fast, Sly swung his legs up from underneath and kicked the assassin's legs up off the floor, at the same time flipping backwards and causing the assassin to flip forward over the railing. Sly himself was halfway off the railing and barely able to pull himself back out of the way of danger at the last moment.

The assassin spun around quickly, dropping one knife but thrusting the other into the wood of the balcony at the last moment in order to gain a solid handhold. He was now dangling, very precariously, by his own blade.

Sly straightened up, walking back a few feet just to retrieve his Cane before he returned to the edge of the balcony, standing over the terrified assassin, whose blade was pinned to the wood between two of the railing's vertical bars.

The man, whose face was still covered by the mask, stared up at Sly. His eyes were wide with fear, though not necessarily displaying a willingness to talk or negotiate.

Nevertheless, Sly began the most impromptu and informal interrogation.

"I don't care who you are, and I know you were sent by ORNWOR. All I need to know is this…"

He then knelt down and grabbed the blade of the knife itself with a gloved hand, slowly wedging it back and forth to start loosening the blade.

"No!"

"…Where are they? Where is the Death Ray, and where is their new base of operations? I know they're operating in a new secret location since the destruction of the Volcano. They could never afford for the base of their entire organization to be mobile. So where is it?"

He simply grunted and gasped, not uttering a single word.

"I will pull this thing right out. And those rocks down there don't look too friendly."

The man turned to look down below him, noticing the sharp, jagged rocks extending out from the cliff base for nearly 30 feet. Another wave smashed up against them, casting the misty water high up above them.

"I won't ask you again – WHERE. ARE. THEY?"

The assassin slowly lifted one hand up off the blade, pointing frantically at his dead comrade with a shaking finger. His eyes flew back and forth between Sly and the body.

Sly, disgusted and realizing the obvious chance for trickery here, decided that the interrogation was over.

He released the knife and stood up, stepping back from the lodged blade.

The assassin placed his hand back on the knife, attempting to pull himself back up. He continued gesturing – now with only one finger – at the body.

Sly didn't dare turn around, and instead used his Cane to effortlessly lift the knife out of the wood.

The assassin screamed in terror as his handhold was released, and he plunged straight down along the cliff face towards the sharp rocks below.

Sly stepped back, listening contently as the scream faded away, and was then suddenly cut off by what he knew was the impact.

…

"Well. A bit of a mess, but nothing that can't be fixed." Bentley replied simply as he surveyed the damage to the slider door. "Overall, I'd say that went very well. Better than expected, actually. After spotting them at the Volcano, it was only a matter of time before they arrived here. It sure is a good thing that they didn't decide to strike while we were still doing reconnaissance."

"If only they could've put up more of a fight." Sly mused.

"Nevertheless, it seems that this one is indeed carrying something that could help us out…"

Bentley withdrew the device from the black belt. It was a black handheld device resembling one of the older and bulkier satellite phones. However, the top third of the device had a small readout screen on it, along with an antenna and a keypad, along with the basic "On/Off" switch.

"I doubt they were using this to communicate with their superiors, or even each other. See? It's off."

Bentley flicked the switch to the "On" position.

The screen flickered to life, and a dark, hooded face appeared on the screen.

"_Greetings, Cooper and friend. I assume that you have defeated my two men and are now viewing this message. That is quite good. For far too long, you have been quite an annoyance to us, our plans, and our greatest inventions…without even knowing the full scope of our true plans. And besides, it is obvious that sending men to kill you will simply never get the job done. Even if it were to succeed, I would miss out on the pleasure of viewing your life's end with my own eyes. In case you haven't yet put two and two together…I am the man in charge of this entire organization you know as ORNWOR. That's right. I am Commander Belyeau's superior, and was Commander Vlotho's superior before him. I have been surveying the damage that you've caused us for nearly three years now, and I'm tired of merely hearing about your great escapades like I'm applying the remedy after the patient has succumbed to their illness. I wish to meet you in person, just so that I can meet the legend himself. The lone survivor, I suppose, of the once-great Cooper Gang. I'm sure you can't pass up a wonderful opportunity like this, can you? And I know, at the same time, that you won't do anything…irrational…with the information in this message. If you know what's best for you, your friend, and the rest of your fellow man, you will come…alone. You won't be calling in the cavalry and sending them here instead, since that would result in the cavalry's existence coming to a sudden end. So please, do come pay me a visit. Any time that works for you is fine, but I'm sure you are well aware that you don't have much time on your hands in the first place. So sooner than later, if you please. The coordinates to our island, located in the southern Pacific Ocean, are…"_

The deep, scratchy voice then recited the coordinates, which placed the island in the deep southern area of the Pacific, closer to Chile than any other country.

Then the message ended, and the screen went black.

…

"No, no, NO. I said NO." Sly repeated.

"Sly, I'm telling you, there _is_ a way around this!" Bentley started to explain.

"I don't CARE! You're NOT coming along! You heard what he said! I have to do this myself, alone, me only…with no one else. Do you understand?"

"Sly, please…hear me out…"

"I don't get you, Bentley. You're literally pleading to let me let you kill yourself!"

"It won't be like that, Sly! I have a yacht in the main harbor in town, and I can have it specially fitted with…"

"Bentley, what part of 'No,' 'This is _my_ business,' and 'I don't want you to get killed' do you NOT understand?"

"Sly, if you would only let ME finish!" Bentley cut off.

Sly had been angrily pacing back and forth, trying to block out what his handicapped friend was saying. But he still couldn't help but hear it, no matter how much he didn't want to.

"There is no plan that could possibly match this! We're talking about ORNWOR's base of operations! Their headquarters! The security there will put Fort Knox to shame! And there's no way we could possibly sneak in! Don't you get it?!"

"We don't know that yet! Besides, they're expecting you to come alone. They won't be expecting what we plan to do with that as a cover! It'll be a perfect Trojan Horse!

"But there's the risk of it failing entirely, and then _both_ of us…"

"Sly." Bentley interrupted. "I understand that risk. It's the elephant in the room. And I'm accepting that risk."

"Why?"

"Because we've got nothing to lose."

_Nothing to lose_… Sly pondered for a moment.

"We've got no other options, and the answer is staring us right in the face!"

Sly was thoroughly confused and conflicted, unsure of what was being said in its entirety, and unable to get his thoughts organized together.

So he finally caved.

"Fine. What do you have in mind?"

Bentley grinned.

"It's a very elaborate, intricate device that I've been perfecting for the last few years now. It's the ideal aquatic Trojan Horse, and it's currently resting in the harbor in town. Here's how the vehicle works…"


	5. Planning

Planning

_Washington D.C., United States of America; Thursday, July 3__rd__, 2008, 6:26 P.M.…_

The German Shepherd strode into the room, where every man slowly rose from their chairs out of respect. They remained standing until he eased himself into his own seat, with everyone else sitting down as well.

Bush looked around at the dark and depressing setting of the bunker that they had to hold this meeting in. He preferred, like any other person would, the open, bright, and elegant nature of the usual meeting room. But of course, the utmost security had to be in place.

"Gentlemen." Bush greeted half-heartedly, to a mix of responses.

"Very well. Let us begin the briefing." The general stated as the large screen on the wall behind him lit up with a computer animation of the Death Ray, courtesy of the mysterious schematics.

"Our foe is a machine that is nearly half a mile tall, and carrying an infinite level of nuclear fire power…"

The general droned on for nearly five minutes about the basic layout, size, shape, and gas mileage of the massive machine before he finally got to the important details.

"As evident by the initial anonymous message, it appears that the main method of propulsion and self-suspension of this machine is, in fact, reversed magnetic polarity at an incredible scale. Due to the magnetic polarity being the exact same as the magnetic polarity of the entire Northern Hemisphere of the planet Earth, this device is able to maintain a completely, perfectly airborne state. And as such, any movement over the Equator into the Southern Hemisphere would result in catastrophic failure. Beyond simply falling due to the pull of gravity, it would actually fall even faster than normal gravity due to the opposite magnetic polarity. This would be more than sufficient to destroy the machine."

"That sounds good and all, but then why do you think they've stayed consistently above the Equator during their entire rampage?" The President asked rhetorically. "Not once have they crossed that border. Originally, we didn't even notice that. All the world's major cities and capitals are located above the Equator anyway."

"Exactly, Mr. President. But it has been venturing close to the Equator on several occasions, not the least of which, I am proud to say, includes right now."

The screen then switched from the schematics of the Death Ray to a global map, outlined in bright green.

"Courtesy of the information we received through the schematics, we have been able to hone in our satellites' search areas to focus in on areas where the thing may potentially be based off its material, which emits a clear radioactive heat signature due to the origins of the metal it is constructed of. As such, we have finally been able to locate the machine."

A series of murmurs of approval, as this was only a small token of good news in what was still a catastrophic situation.

Then, on the screen, a square appeared over the continent of Africa, allowing the map to zoom in on the continent.

"As you know, its latest targets included the North African cities of Cairo, Tripoli, and Rabat. After the latter's destruction, it began moving to the south."

The square focused in on the center of the continent and zoomed in even further.

"Once it was somewhere vaguely in the middle of the continent, not too far from the Equator, it began moving due West, towards the Atlantic."

The square then began maximizing over 1,000 times, until it found its target: Just past the western coast of Africa, off the coast of Cameroon and over the blue ocean.

A blurry gray shape.

"There's the monster." The general reported grimly. "If it continues due West in this path, it'll hit Venezuela first."

"I'd like to see Hugo try to take this thing head on." Bush muttered to a few chuckles.

"Rest assured, this close proximity to the Equator is our best chance." The general continued. "We have been experimenting with reversed magnetic polarity as a means of levitation for quite some time, but we have access to a particular kind of device of that nature that will be essential in bringing this thing down."

"Alright." Bush replied. "I'm listening."

"It's a device that essentially emits a massive wave of energy, for the purpose of disrupting the magnetic field within a radius of approximately one mile. Now it's not as simple as most of you are probably thinking. This will not be enough to bring down the device's own magnetic polarity. But what this device is used for, in its test runs and, hopefully, in the field, is corrupting all devices in the area that relate to directional navigation, such as compasses."

"I think I know where this is going." The President intervened. "So basically, this thing will render all compasses and other methods of navigation useless, so that they can't tell where they're going, even onboard that thing?"

"Precisely." The general confirmed.

"And you want to use this device on them now while they're close to the Equator, in the hopes that they can be lured over the Equator where the Earth's magnetic polarity will do the rest of the work."

"Exactly, sir. But the only catch is, we must come up with a method of baiting them into moving towards the Equator when they're completely unaware of it."

"But what could possibly serve as an allure for a device that large and that dangerous to risk its superiority?" Cheney asked. "We've already established that all of the major cities are located above the Equator. They have no reason to go any further south. It's a miracle that they're sticking that close to it!"

"Agreed, Mr. Vice President. And that's what we're trying to work out. Some sort of bait, some sort of decoy, that can fool them…Uh, start passing these out." The general ordered his assistant next to him.

The short man began quickly moving around the table, handing out large folders to each seated individual.

"These are lists of potential ways that we could bait them over the Equator." The general explained. "Some of them contain obvious kinks that may need to be worked out here and there, and some are rather theoretical and perhaps not as effective in the field as they would be on paper…"

The folder was placed down in front of Bush, the red "CONFIDENTIAL" stamp across the tanned exterior like most other documents around here.

But even then, Bush made no move to grab it or open it, and was the only man at the table to not do so.

"Our preferred option is a classic Trojan Horse routine. We send a vehicle, preferably a slower-moving one like an aircraft carrier, out into the South Atlantic. We send out a false radio signal indicating that we have high-ranking officials onboard, attempting to escape to Brazil, including…you, sir."

The general gestured towards his Commander-in-Chief.

"We fool them into thinking that they have the leader of the free world on the run, and that they can intercept him before he reaches the Equator. Meanwhile, as the machine draws closer, we deploy an elite squadron of fighter pilots to approach the machine. We know now that their entire aerial defense fleet, as mentioned in these schematics, was completely destroyed in the Battle of Paris. They will be helpless to fight back. Like someone too fat to swat away a fly. The jets will approach the sphere at the top of the spire here…"

As the screen returned to the schematics, the general gestured to said sphere as the screen zoomed in on it.

"…which is the main control room, and thus the best place to plant the device, which can be specially detached from the underside of any one of the jets. Once thoroughly attached, it will begin to disorient their navigation, and we can continue luring them right down to the Equator."

"And they'll have no way of detecting the device once it's planted?" Cheney asked.

"No, sir. They have no means of surveillance up there, and it can be deployed so quickly they wouldn't know the difference."

"Eh, sounds good to me." The Vice President conceded.

"But what's paramount is that we approve of this plan today. Not in a few hours, now. We must move in while they are still over the ocean, near the Equator."

There were more murmurs all across the room, with all eyes eventually falling onto the President himself, who remained silent as he sat in front of the still-unopened folder.

"I don't suppose you actually want for me to be onboard this ship?" Bush asked softly.

"Of course not, sir!" The general scoffed. "We're already making arrangements for you and your family to fly out to New Zealand for refuge shortly before the ship leaves."

There was a long pause.

And then:

"No decoy is a good substitute for the real thing." Bush replied blankly.

All heads turned towards him.

"What are you saying, sir?"

"Was the Trojan Horse empty? Was it not hollow on the inside, not full of the best warriors that Greece had to offer? No. You have to take risks and deliver the best of the best in order to be an effective decoy."

"Sir, I don't understand…" The general started.

Bush slowly stood up.

"I'll be more than willing to go on this mission to increase the believability of the decoy."

A series of gasps.

"But, but sir!"

"Why not?" Bush replied sharply. "Am I going to just turn and run the other direction like Jonah?" He slowly began to walk around the table. "This could be our only chance at destroying this thing, and if they somehow found it that this is just a decoy, and they don't try to pursue it…"

A pause.

"Maybe this way, the decoy radio message that they're supposed to intercept can have my voice on it, live at that moment. Then they'll believe that they truly do have a chance at eliminating the leader of the free world. They simply will not be able to resist."

"I'm sorry, sir. But we can't allow you to do that. You and your family are flying to New Zealand on Air Force One-."

"My family." Bush corrected. "They are going to safety. _I'm_ going to the South Atlantic. I don't care about the security protocols anymore. I am your Commander-in-Chief, and you receive your orders from me. I will approve of this mission, but only if I am onboard that ship as well. No questions asked."

There was a long silence as the President's words sank in, his determination clear.

The general sighed. He opened his mouth as if to protest further, then closed it. Then: "Very well, sir."

"Not so fast, W."

Bush slowly turned to face the voice.

Vice President Cheney was now standing up. "You can't just leave us like that and take all the glory for yourself."

He said this with that familiar smirk on his face.

"Oh, no, Dick. Not you, too."

"The captain wants to go down with the ship…and the crew wants to stand with him."

"No, no, no. This is absurd."

"Why? Don't turn around and sound like the general now…sir." Dick responded sharply. "You're not the only one in this room willing to die for America."

A pause as the two most powerful men in the world stared each other down for a few long moments.

And then:

"He's right."

Karl Rove stood up.

"Me, too."

Then, one by one, more began standing up.

"We're all Americans. We're all patriots. And we're not gonna abandon you, sir."

Bush slowly turned around and looked at all the standing individuals, all of his Cabinet, staring at him with the same look of determination.

"But you're all needed to run the government. You can do it without me, but if we're all on that boat, and we all…"

"George." Dick interrupted. "Have you seen the bureaucracy we've got here? We've got enough successors lined up to run the country if the Cabinet was to be destroyed three times over."

A few light-hearted chuckles.

"We're not going to be cowards either." Condoleezza Rice added. "We all have a duty to this country. We've all sworn an oath just as you have."

Bush still couldn't quite process the magnitude of this moment, but he eventually conceded.

"Very well. If any of you truly wish to be part of this…I can't stop you. We'll just need to run through the necessary procedures and make sure that all of your successors are ready to assume the positions, and all under the necessary protection."

Bush then turned to the general.

"Get Speaker Pelosi on the phone. Let her know that she needs to get to a safe place and be prepared to take the Oath of Office."

"Yes, sir." The general replied before turning to his assistant.

"Yes, sir." The assistant echoed.

…

The massive jet lifted up and off the runway as it began its ascent. The President leaned over and looked out the window one final time as the massive expanse of the capital of the United States stretched out below him…and then behind him.

As he leaned back into his chair, he tried to push the recent memory out of his mind; his saying goodbye to his wife and daughters less than half an hour beforehand. He tried not to think about his wife's loving embrace as she and their two daughters were heading to safety, while he was heading into the heart of darkness.

The President of the United States folded his hands in his lap, trying not to let any tears fall. He kept his head turned towards the window, refusing to face any other individual in the jet immediately around him.

As he felt a single tear welling up, he squeezed his eyes shut again, finally finding the courage to break down and let it all out before the Lord.

_God…_ He paused again, thinking over his choice of next words carefully. _Whatever Your will may be…Whether this plan fails or succeeds…If You will it, then so be it._


	6. Arrival

Arrival

_Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean; Thursday, July 3__rd__, 2008, 9:18 P.M.…_

The sun was setting on the distant horizon, casting the usual orange glow over everything in sight. However, the clouds were rolling in, seemingly from all directions, promising to turn the bright and beautiful scene into one of darkness and gloom very soon.

But even the beauty of the sunset could distract the two occupants of the yacht, cruising along the Pacific in a consistent southeastern direction. They were traveling at top speed, as there was no reason to prolong the journey any further than it needed to be. All they cared about was arriving as quickly as possible.

But even at high speed, it would be a while before they arrived at their destination.

Sly sat back on one of the benches, the wind tugging lightly at his hair and his clothes.

Bentley came from below decks and wheeled over to his friend.

"We should be arriving in about another hour." He reported.

If Sly heard him, he didn't acknowledge it.

"Sly…the possibilities of what we'll find – if anything – are nearly infinite…"

"I know. And you shouldn't be here."

"For the last time, Sly; I'm part of this. I'm involved. What makes you think that this is your business alone? I'm involved, Murray would be involved if he was still…"

"That's exactly why!" He roared. "Because of Murray! And Penelope! And Carmelita, and the Guru, and Dimitri, and the Panda King! And God knows how many more people died because of this! Because of us! THAT'S why you shouldn't be here!" He exclaimed loudly, the first few sights of tears in his eyes beginning to appear. "I don't want you to lose your life like they did!"

"But Sly…that's a necessary risk."

"You, of all people, talking about 'necessary risks'…"

"This is different, Sly, from anything else we've ever done. Yes, this is deadly. Yes, this has taken the lives of all of our greatest friends and allies alike. But Sly, we've got nothing to lose."

_Nothing to lose…_ Sly thought grimly.

"We've got no choice. This isn't about stealing some ancient artifact, or pile of money, or outsmarting the police or fellow criminals. This is about the entire free world. This is about saving all of mankind. Normally, we'd never have to worry about such a duty…normally, that would be reserved for the military, or the United Nations, or something or other…but we know more about this group than any other individual or organization on the face of the Earth. And those who have the ability to take action…have the responsibility to take action."

Sly only nodded, not saying anything else, and not even looking at Bentley.

After a pause, Bentley slowly placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"We have to do this. Even if…even if something happens. We must succeed, we must give it everything we've got."

"And if we fail…"

"Try not to think about that for right now, OK?"

Bentley found himself barely able to believe his own words. Usually, _he_ was the one worrying about the possibility of failure, or unable to undertake an extremely dangerous situation.

Sly noticed too, but didn't say anything.

"I'll go back and get another look at our proximity to the island."

And with that, Bentley returned into the cabin.

Sly stared out at the ocean for a few more minutes, noticing the encroaching presence of storm clouds as the sun disappeared, contemplating every single word of wisdom that had been given to him.

He sighed.

…

It was not necessarily that Bentley was so focused on reading the controls, but Sly, for once, chose to be sneaky around his own friend. Thus, Bentley never even noticed as Sly passed by through the cabin, slipping into one of the spare rooms and quietly closing the door.

So when Bentley finally returned to the upper deck, there was no one else in sight.

…

Roughly an hour and a half had passed, the boat still on its original course, and storm clouds were now surrounding them on all sides, the unmistakable rumbling of thunder and flashes of lightning in the distance as the storm began. The two occupants now, for the first time, beginning to wonder if they would actually reach their destination. For the first time, fear was replaced with doubt, which was, strangely, slightly more comforting to the raccoon leaning against the transom at the stern, and the wheelchair-bound turtle at the bow.

But their hopes of a big hoax were thoroughly annihilated when, at long last, something came into view.

Bentley pulled out his bino-cu-com from one armrest of his wheelchair, quickly zooming in and confirming his suspicions.

"Sly…I've got a visual."

Sly lifted his head up, finally pulling his gaze away from the long, consistent wake of the boat. Without a word, he spun around and walked swiftly up to the bow to join his friend, pulling out his own bino-cu-com and taking a look.

"Alright, Bentley." Sly lowered the device. "Get below. Now."

"Alright. Apply the lenses." Bentley reminded him as he turned and quickly wheeled over to the nearest opening and jumped down below decks.

Sly slowly reached into his pouch and withdrew the two small plastic containers, opening them up to reveal the small contact lenses.

Normally, he'd offer a brief a grin of disbelief at the sheer ingenuity of this latest of his friend's devices, but the circumstances said otherwise. With a blank expression, he slowly and carefully pulled out the lenses and applied them one at a time, tossing the empty container into the ocean. He then slowly leaned over the railing, firmly gripping it with both gloved hands as he anticipated the approach.

Sure enough, it took less than 10 seconds for several more objects to appear in the distance, breaking away from the island as they approached by air and by sea – three black, fully-armed helicopters and two large speedboats, all approaching at top speed.

Sly closed his eyes, enjoying the brief state of semi-silence now before their loud engines and thumping propellers came into range. He could only faintly hear the wind in his ears, blowing lightly on his face. He could faintly hear the humming of their own boat's engine at the opposite end of the vessel, and the soft churning of the water behind and beneath it. He could feel the cold, hard bars gripped in his fists, so steady and slightly reassuring as he prepared to head into complete uncertainty.

And then, finally, his state of brief solitude was shattered as the propellers and roaring engines drew closer, accompanied shortly after by a single voice on a megaphone.

"Attention, foreign vessel. You are hereby being detained. No foul play, and continue forward at a moderate speed into the designated docking area upon your arrival. No tricks, Cooper. One wrong move, and your vessel will cease to exist."

Sly slowly opened his eyes, released the railing, and walked slowly across the deck back to the controls. He switched off the auto-pilot, reducing the vessel's speed and taking manual control. His hands similarly gripped the wheel, trying to find comfort and security where there was none.

The first few drops of rain began falling.

…

The squad double-timed it across the rocky terrain, skipping over the path just to get to the docks faster, all too eager to follow their orders and intercept the new arrival as the rain poured around them.

The 20 men had just arrived as their own vehicles began bringing in the captured boat, which slowly eased into one of the few spare slots in the docking area. Their two speedboats branched off and docked in other slots, several men on the shore already waiting to pull the mooring lines closer and help their comrades get back onto dry land faster. The three helicopters soared overhead, all quickly landing on the nearest helipads.

Almost immediately, the squad split in half and the two rows of 10 men now lined the two opposite sides of the path leading to the dock where the newly-captured boat was being tied down. The squad leader swiftly walked down the dock, joining the five men who were already securing the boat's mooring lines and leaping aboard, guns locked, loaded, and all aimed at their captor's head as he stood behind the wheel.

"Cooper! Hands off the wheel and behind your head, NOW!" The squad leader shouted as he trained his sniper rifle on the raccoon's forehead.

A bright flash of lightning shot through the sky overhead, followed by a loud thunderclap a few seconds later.

Sly sighed, then slowly removed his hands from the wheel, interlocking his fingers and placing them behind his head as instructed.

"Sidestep to your left five steps, NOW!"

He did as told.

"Now walk forward and stop three paces from me! MOVE!"

He did as told once more.

Once he was before the squad leader, two other armed men on each side, the squad leader barked: "Now on your knees!"

Sly slowly let his knees fall out from under him, kneeling on the wooden deck.

"Alright, take him in. Confiscate everything."

Instantly, two men grabbed his hands and moved them down behind his back, quickly attaching not just one, but _two_ pairs of handcuffs to his wrists before they began to take his belongings, including his pouch, his bino-cu-com, and his Cane.

Then they grabbed his arms and yanked him back up to his feet.

"Let's wait for a moment so that your friend, or friends, can join us."

The squad leader looked past Sly at several more guards who just emerged from below decks.

"Well? Where is he?"

"There's no one else onboard, sir." He reported.

"What?"

"We've searched every compartment, every closet, even the engine room. There's no one else onboard." He repeated.

The squad leader furrowed his eyebrows and looked back at Sly.

"Perhaps you finally gave up on your selfish desires and allowed your friend to avoid the storm. No matter. Soon he shall feel the heat, just as everyone else left in the free world shall. Now move."

The squad leader grabbed Sly by the back of his neck and began guiding him along, followed right behind by the two men who each carried all of Sly's confiscated items.

They all stepped off the boat and onto the dock, surrounded on each side by rows of heavily-armed guards. Once the squad leader, the captive, and the two immediately behind them were past the two rows, those rows turned to the side and returned to their rank-and-file marching positions, with both rows directly beside each other and marching behind them as one large squad.

Sly initially kept his head down until they were finally past the wooden dock and now walking on dry land. The terrain was gray, barren, and mostly very rocky. There were no signs of vegetation anywhere, only man-made structures and barren rock formations. He glanced back at the docks, where there were at least 10 of the enemy speedboats in addition to his own captured vessel. He then looked to his left, where he saw several different buildings that could've served any purpose. However, among the three or four that he could see, one particularly large building resembling a warehouse – or the old hangar from the Krak-Karov Volcano – stood much higher above the rest, and with noticeably tighter security around its entrance. He glanced further ahead, still to the left, where he saw the helicopters heading, but the choppers themselves, and the helipads they had landed on, were obscured by rocks. Sly then looked straight ahead, in the direction, they were heading, and saw a single tower rising up in the distance. It bore a resemblance to a very familiar, and equally menacing, tower that he remembered all too well in Prague 16 years ago.

They continued further up the path, finally coming over a hill and revealing what was at the base of the tower. A massive castle, unlike any he had seen before. It wasn't split into numerous, inter-connected, elaborate structures the way the Contessa's castle had been; rather, it was a single large, rectangular shape with the shorter side facing them, a massive drawbridge in the closed position at the front of the building. Just in front of the castle, extending completely around the perimeter of the castle as far as Sly could see, was a massive moat.

They continued up the trail until they finally reached the moat, which had to be at least 30 feet across. No sooner did every single one of the soldiers come to a sudden stop, than the drawbridge began slowly lowering, accompanied by the creaking of the wood and the rattling of the massive, heavy chains as they extended.

Sly leaned over and looked at the moat itself, observing that the liquid in the moat did not at all appear to be water. It looked thicker, resembling an oil spill but with a sickening greenish-brown color to it. He could see some parts of the surface bubbling, with several large bubbles, upon bursting, emit a brief plume of smoke. Even from here, he could feel the heat rising from the liquid, as well as a strong scent that wasn't exactly unpleasant, but wasn't comforting either.

He didn't even want to think of what this liquid could possibly be.

And then the drawbridge was down completely, revealing another set of smaller, red wooden double doors roughly 10 feet high, just inside where the drawbridge was.

With another rough prodding, Sly continued on with the squad leader and the two men behind him holding his supplies.

They arrived at the double doors, which were ornately decorated with golden rivets and large rings at each of the handles. A single figurehead, resembling a lion, sat directly in the middle, covering the gap between the doors. As soon as they arrived and came to a stop, the two men holding the supplies moved past Sly and the squad leader, each one grabbing one of the golden rings and pulling them open. As the two doors swung open, the lion figurehead split clean in half right down the middle.

And then, before the doors were even open all the way, Sly immediately recognized his foe.

…

Bentley stared in mute horror as the tall, powerful figure of Belyeau suddenly appeared on the other side of the double doors.

"_Welcome, Sly Cooper. We've been expecting you."_

Bentley shook his head, shivering at the very sight of the mountainous raccoon, but quickly shaking it off.

"OK, this is clearly their headquarters, and thus my primary target for the explosives." Bentley relayed to Sly through the earpiece, which Sly heard clearly. Sly, of course, didn't respond; either to Bentley or Belyeau. "I need you to do as much scanning as you can while you're inside."

"_Are these his possessions?"_ Belyeau asked of the two guards standing at the doors.

"_Yes, sir."_ Both replied in perfect unison, each holding out their respective contraband for the Commander to take.

He snatched both sets of items up, sifting through them briefly.

"_Very well._" He replied as he held up a single burlap bag and proceeded to drop every single one of Sly's items into them, with the exception of the Cane, which he instead placed in his own belt at his side.

"_Wait. Just a moment._" Belyeau then searched through each and every single one of the items again.

Bentley gasped slightly as the realization came over him, and realized that it was time to get moving.

"Alright, Sly. I think he's onto our communicator. That doesn't mean he knows I'm here, but it means I won't be able to talk to you any-."

"_Where is his communicator?"_

"_Sir?"_

"_His earpiece."_

Belyeau then stepped over to Sly in a single pace, swung his hand up to Sly's left ear, and quickly yanked out the small device.

"_This, you fools."_ He dropped it into the bag with everything else. From this point on, from within the bag, the speech that the device relayed was significantly muffled. _"…ow you…erlook this?"_

"_Sir, we apologize, sir!"_ Both men declared, still clear due to their shouting, as they snapped to attention.

"…_eptance of r apology... pending. Both of…eturn to stations…further instructed."_

"_Sir, yes, sir!"_

Both men then quickly pivoted on their heels, facing outward towards the bridge, and marched back across to rejoin their squad.

"_Squad…ismissed."_

"_Sir, yes, sir!"_ The entire squad shouted back before doing a simultaneous about-face and marching back down the path.

Belyeau turned and whispered something completely incomprehensible to the squad leader, who released Sly's arm and allowed Belyeau to take his place. The squad leader relayed something with a noticeably nervous expression, resulting in a confused look on Belyeau's face as he mouthed several recognizable words, such as "What do you mean?" and "No one else?"

When the conversation finally ended, the squad leader moved past Belyeau inside the double doors and disappeared down the nearest corridor. Belyeau smiled ominously and looked at Sly for a moment before proceeding to lead him down the main hall of the castle. Sly turned back one final time as the double doors began to close, with the drawbridge also rising back into position. All of this happened in complete silence.

Bentley slowly lowered his hand, now shifting his attention partially away from the screen displaying Sly's vision and instead turned to the sonar screen above the control panel.

As he did so, he was thankful that the micro-cameras were a success. If only he could've made room in the artificial contact lenses for a small microphone.

The small chamber he was in was glowing an eerie green, with several different controls flashing on and off as they awaited his move.

Bentley began flipping several switches, then typed in the code for detachment.

Underneath the newly-captured vessel, the vertical metal pipe detached from the underside of the boat, allowing the submarine that had been hiding directly beneath it this entire time to finally break away and slowly move around the perimeter of the island on its own. However, the submarine could only move at a very low and sustained speed, so as to maintain sonar invisibility as well as carefully navigate the waters around the island, which grew even more uneasy as the storm began to pick up. The submarine had only managed to make it this close to the island due to the shape of the boat directly above it masking its sonar signal as it approached. Now he was in danger of being exposed, and thus had to maintain an utmost level of calm.

Bentley was already turning on yet another screen, which was recording all of the footage that Sly acquired through the lenses, and was already able to play back whichever parts Bentley wanted to review. He quickly rewound to the wide shot of the buildings that had been on Sly's left, zooming in on the particularly large storage building.

"Hmm…"

Bentley snapped a freeze-frame of these buildings, then a frame of the zoomed-in large building, then reduced their size as he fast-forwarded through the footage to the first wide shot of the castle, taking yet another freeze-frame.

Bentley quickly began calculating the number of structural and foundational weak points, placing that number against the number of explosives he had ready. He only hoped that his cloaking device would be enough to cover the explosives as he carried them, because otherwise, the mission would be in great jeopardy.

As he continued slowly piloting the submarine around towards the backside of the island, he kept a steady eye on Sly's POV as he was moved through the castle. It was every bit as elegant, ornate, and over-the-top as he expected – red carpets, tapestries, suits of armor, paintings, chandeliers, statues, fountains, tiled floors, elaborate artwork lining the ceiling, pillars…every single detail was lined with pure beauty and elegance.

Eventually, Sly reached a massive main room where a single large fountain stood. Its diameter had to be about as large as the moat's width, and the statue in the middle, Bentley recognized from his travels abroad. It was a sadistically reversed version of Etienne-Jules Ramey's _Theseus and the Minotaur_; in this interpretation, it was the beast that was slaying the man. At its base, it was surrounded by five fish spouts from which steady, arcing streams of water emitted into the fountain. He imagined that it created a very soft, constant, and even soothing trickling sound.

Sly and Belyeau moved around the fountain, on the other side of which was a large stone structure rising straight out of the floor – the cone-like tower of bricks seemed very out-of-place in the ornate room, and it occurred to both Sly and Bentley, at that moment, that this had to be the base of the tower that rose sharply out of the castle towards the backside. There was a single curved wooden door set at its base, with two armed guards standing on the two sides of the door. They both saluted at Belyeau, which he returned. One of them turned and pulled a single lever beside the door, which caused the door to split open down the middle into two double doors, revealing a rickety elevator car just inside. Belyeau ushered Sly in, and they were followed by the two guards. Once inside, the same guard flipped a lever that was in the car, moving it into the up position. The doors closed, and the car began rising at a steady pace up the shaft of the tower.

Bentley knew where this was going, and quickly returned to moving the submarine around to the back of the island. Just as he had hoped, there was a rocky alcove under which the submarine could hide safely.

He took a deep breath and spoke a quick prayer.

_This had better work…there's no other option._

…

And then, before Sly knew it, the elevator reached its stop. With a jerking of the car and the sound of rusty gears falling into place and stopping, the door opened. Belyeau swiftly stepped forward, and one of the two guards roughly ushered Sly to do the same. Almost instantly, he took in his surroundings. There was a large platform against the wall opposite the elevator, suspended about ten feet off the floor by several pillars underneath it, leaving empty space below it. A thin metal staircase led up to it. But the main thing that caught Sly's attention was the fact that practically the entire wall behind it was a massive sheet of glass, from floor to ceiling. In the center of the pane of glass, directly level with the platform, was a spider web design in the center of the glass, distinguishing itself from the rest of the window. On the platform, facing the giant window, was a throne with its back to them. Other than that, the room was completely empty and featureless. There were several more doors on either side, obviously leading to the other rooms in these larger quarters. A layout very similar to the layout of the sphere on top of the Death Ray's spire, where the control room and the Commander's quarters had been.

One of the guards firmly gripped Sly's shoulder and pushed him on.

The four of them stopped just at the base of the staircase just before the first step. Belyeau promptly kneeled down, hanging his head and bending one knee in reverence. He dropped the bag containing Sly's equipment to the floor as well. Sly felt a swift smack of one of the guard's rifles against his back, and he turned to see the two guards start to do the same. Sly hesitated for a moment. The two guards were already kneeled down. Then, one of them lifted their head up, saw Sly, and swiftly delivered another blow to the back of his knees with the same rifle. Sly's legs buckled and he found himself kneeling just as they were. Of course, the last thing he wanted to do was kneel before this…thing. But, at the moment, he had no choice.

After a long moment, a single voice, long, drawn-out, guttural, and scratchy, spoke up from behind the throne.

"Do you have him?"

"Yes, sir." Belyeau replied firmly and diligently. "We have him."

"Good. Guards. Leave us."

The voice rose slightly towards the end, and Sly could hear the two guards behind him promptly rise to their feet, pivot around, and turn back towards the elevator. Similarly, Sly noticed for the first time, two guards who were already there, stationed on either side of the elevator door, turned and entered the rickety car. Once the other two were inside as well, the doors slowly slid shut, and the car creaked down the elevator shaft, leaving Sly, Belyeau, and the figure in the throne alone in the massive chamber.

After a moment, the throne slowly started to swivel around. Ever so slowly, it rotated silently. After what seemed like an eternity, it faced them. Sitting in was a figure in a black cloak. The robe completely fell to the floor and covered the figure's legs, while very long sleeves covered its arms. A hood was pulled up over its head, casting a shadow down over its face. It looked at them for a long moment.

"Ah…At long last. Sly. Sly Cooper."

Another flash of lightning went off, illuminating the entire window behind the throne. The droplets of water continued slamming against the glass and streaking downward as the wind whipped the rain against the tower.

The figure slowly rose, grabbing a cane that was in the throne next to the right armrest, the end of it disappearing up the sleeve as the figure's unseen hand clutched it. The figure stepped down out of the throne, wobbling slightly as it steadied itself, and slowly approached the top of the stairs. By now, Belyeau had risen to his feet, and grabbed Sly roughly by the shoulder, yanking him to his feet and maintaining a firm grip on him.

The figure slowly descended the stairs, one step at a time, drawing closer and closer to them. Finally, it reached the bottom, stopping just in front of Sly. Sly realized that the figure was significantly shorter than him, perhaps by a foot at least…

"I have been waiting for this day for many, many years. Welcome, Sly. I've missed you."

And then, in one quick, swift motion, the figure raised its left hand and shrugged the hood off, simultaneously letting the left sleeve fall away and reveal the left hand for the first time. Both the face and the hand were such stunning reveals that Sly didn't know which was worse.

The left hand was not a hand at all. It was a metallic claw. Of the purest, shiniest, finest steel, it consisted of two pinchers, slightly longer than an average finger, both of which curled down at the end. With several quick movements, the two claws clacked together with light clanking sounds. Sly could see a single wire tighten up as they clicked together, and loosen slightly as they moved apart. Beneath the claw itself, Sly only saw a brief glimpse of a long metal arm beneath the cloak.

The face, however, was far more frightening. The entire right side of the face was destroyed. The skin and fur were rotted away, replaced by a mix of red and brown that could have only been a burn mark. There were nerves and veins, jawbones and the white of skull exposed. The right eye was gone, an empty socket in its place. The teeth on that side of the face were yellow, uneven, crooked, or gone. The right ear was gone. There were various other scars and scratches all over it. And the other half of the face was only too recognizable, from the sinister yellow eye to the familiar purple fur, and even to the odd, plug-like device on top of his head.

Another brilliant flash of lightning cast an eerie shadow over the half-deformed face, with the thunder loudly following it.

"Dr. M."

"The very one, only, and same." He replied, speaking now in the familiar voice he had used the last time they met. "Welcome, Sly, to my humble abode."

"You survived." Sly stated blankly.

"Don't tell me that you thought you could actually get rid of me that easily?"

"I had my hopes up."

"Well, it almost worked, let me tell you. You see, after I thought I had killed you, I let your wife 'defeat me' and pretended to be unconscious. When you left with your wife, I made sure to stay behind and wait long enough so that you would believe that I had perished…"

_Eleven years ago; Kaine Island, the South Pacific, 3:52 A.M…_

_Dr. M watched as the turtle and mouse were carried away by the hippo, the former two staring back at him as he stood defiantly on the large rock ledge, screaming in fury and pounding his chest repeatedly, daring the roof to cave in on him._

_Then, within a matter of moments, they were gone. They disappeared out the newly-opened secret entrance, and vanished into the storm just outside._

_Dr. M stopped his roar and looked around cautiously. He then jumped down and started advancing rather quickly on all fours towards the door, dodging around the massive chunks of ceiling falling down around him._

"I was on the verge of escaping." He related to Sly in the present. "Despite several close encounters with debris and pieces of the collapsing ceiling, I was close to reaching the exit and making it outside."

_But then, just a few feet away from said door, Dr. M could suddenly feel the heavy, impossibly large presence in the air above him, combined with the massive shadow forming over him. He looked up just in time to see the massive chunk of rock coming down at him._

_He screamed in terror and took one final desperate leap forward, his arms outstretched towards the wide open door to freedom and safety._

_He felt the horrible crushing pain just behind him, completely engulfing his right leg in a deadly embrace. He could hear the very sound of his bones smashing, being grinded together and ground into dust. The rest of his body followed suit and slammed to the hard floor, pressed down and held there by the unimaginable pain in his leg. He could already feel the warmth of the blood spreading around his leg underneath the rock._

"It was rather infuriating, let me tell you. That door was right there, barely out of arm's reach, so close that the rain from outside was coming inside. It was soaking the floor around me, landing on my face and upper torso. It was as if it was taunting me with its being so close, yet so far. I started screaming at the top of my lungs, calling for help from any of my henchmen who might be near."

_Within several minutes, his calls finally reached someone. Two of his elephant guards came running into the room, leaping over the pit and rushing to his side. _

"_Dr. M! Sir, are you alright?"_

"_Do I _look_ alright to you, you fool?! Get me out of here, now!" Dr. M roared in fury. He cringed soon after from the pain that came from yelling so loud._

"_Come on, Murph! Help me lift this stone!" The other one said to his comrade._

_Both elephants quickly moved over and grabbed the end of the slab, lifting up with all of their might. Dr. M at first could only feel even more pain as it moved over his ruined leg. Then he could feel a cold breeze start to rush over it as the slab was lifted higher, allowing air to reach his leg. And with the air came a fresh new pain. He cringed harder, gnashing his teeth and pounding his fists into the hard floor in fury._

_Then, it was off. Both elephants jerked the slab to one side to move it away from their superior. They both then got a good look at his leg._

"_Oh my God!" The one called Murph exclaimed. "That's disgusting!"_

"_Don't just stand there, you fool! Grab him and let's get going!"_

_Both guards then moved over to their leader's side, and each grabbed one of his arms, Murph on his right, the other guard on his left._

"_You got him, Jack?"_

"_Yes. Now hurry! This place is falling apart!"_

_Both guards then carried the limp form of Dr. M towards the exit._

In the present, the cane-wielding Dr. M sighed, wobbling briefly on his right side once more as he recalled the moment when his leg was ruined.

"You'd think that would be it, right? Home free, right? Safe at last, right? Wrong."

_As the two carried Dr. M across the island, away from the collapsing center, they came to one of the bridges connecting the center of the island to one of its many smaller parts surrounding it._

_Only to find that the bridge was completely demolished. The entire center of it was gone, and only the rugged ends of it, on each side of the wild and choppy river, remained._

"_Damn it!" Jack exclaimed. "The bridge is out!"_

"_Well, where do we go?" Murph asked, not knowing the answer himself._

_The other one, Jack, looked around frantically. On their right was a massive cliff wall towering above them. Behind them was the path leading right back to the secret entrance to the Vault. But to their left was one of the few buildings on the island. Its walls were a dark gray, and the ceiling a dark red. There were several windows – some, surprisingly, still glowing orange from inside – that lined the sides of the building._

"_We'll have to go through this lab! Come on!"_

_The two guards then turned around, careful not to swing too fast for the limp body they were carrying, and proceeded towards the lab._

_Just behind them, there was another loud crash. Several more large pieces of the mountainside had come off and slammed down onto the ground behind them._

"_We don't have much time!" Murph declared._

"_Just hang on; the boat's just up ahead! The survivors are waiting!"_

_Jack then grabbed the door, pulled it open, and ushered his partner first so that they could carefully maneuver through the relatively small doorway._

_The floor they were on, while at ground level, was actually the top floor of a two-story building. The floor they were walking on was mainly one large metal grate, holes allowing them to see below them. A portion about five feet against the wall to their right was cut away as an open drop to the floor below. A single railing lined the metal walkway just next to them. The lower floor, beneath them, was dug into the ground below, just at the side of the river, with a massive glass wall completely separating the second floor from the raging sea on the other side, just like the underwater lab. Several sharks and other sea creatures could be seen gliding past the window every now and then. On the lower floor, just alongside the massive window, were three large metal tanks, each full of a sickly green liquid that bubbled and broiled within them. All of the waste from past failed experiments – the same slime that occasionally leaked outside and around the island – gathered into these three metal vats in one filthy, deadly conglomerate._

_On the top floor, where they were, there were numerous computer consoles, both small and large, as well as several tables with equipment lining them. Most of the equipment was toppled over, smashed, on the floor, or all three at once. Several of the computer screens were shattered and sparking wildly. Only one large one in the dead center of the wall remained intact. The floor at the left end of the room, beneath the computer consoles and tables, was solid concrete._

_At the far end of the room opposite them, at the end of the metal catwalk they stood on, was another door, similar to the one they had entered through._

"_It's just over there, through the lab!" Jack declared. "Let's go!"_

_And, with that, the two guards pressed on with renewed strength and determination to save their leader. They began advancing across the metal catwalk, with the metal railing beside them, the vats and their chemical content bubbling calmly amidst the chaos around them. _

_Dr. M groaned in pain, his vision starting to grow faint._

"_We're almost there, sir! Just beyond that door, and we'll be at the docks!" Murph encouraged._

_Suddenly, the final computer console – the massive screen about six feet wide and eight feet tall – gave in amidst another, much larger, shower of sparks from a nearby console. As the sparks settled over the keyboard, the wires, and the circuits, it emitted a fiery blast of sparks, glass, and metal. Several pieces of shrapnel even flew over to where the three men were, as far from the computer as they were. Dr. M could feel one piece of glass slice over his left hand, severing one of the bulging veins leading up to his fingers. He cringed and yelped out in pain again, with little to no energy left for a full scream._

_Similarly, Murph experienced a piece of metal slashing right into his left eye. "OW! MY EYE!" He screamed. He almost immediately let go of Dr. M – resulting in Jack nearly dropping him to the floor – and both of his hands flew up to cover his punctured eyeball._

"_Murph, you-." Jack started as he fumbled to pick up Dr. M again._

_But before Jack could finish, the effects of the computer's explosion hit two massive electric cables on the wall behind it. The electrical jolt travelled up the two cables and caused both of them to explode as well. The following explosion completely consumed the lab area on the left side of the room, sending even more debris and shrapnel all over._

_One computer screen, still in one piece, flew directly at Jack and Dr. M. It slammed into the elephant, who absorbed most of the impact before it could hit the already-crippled Dr. M, and resulted in the elephant tumbling backwards over the railing behind him, flipping right over the bar, and falling down to the lower level. As Jack was still holding onto Dr. M's left arm, he ended up pulling his superior down over the railing with him._

_Both men tumbled down nearly 15 feet before slamming onto the metal floor below, landing almost perfectly between two of the large metal tanks. Once again, Jack absorbed most of the impact, landing completely flat on the floor, and Dr. M following him with a less painful impact. The primate, already in enough pain, was stunned by the slam, but remained conscious._

_On the catwalk above them, Murph leaned over the railing and watched them fall. After they landed, his remaining eye widened in terror._

"_Oh, no! Jack! Dr. M! Hang on, I'll be right down! I'll just…"_

_Before he could finish, the explosion finally finished taking its toll on the roof of the building. A massive fissure spread in the ceiling, travelling straight down the middle and breaking it open, causing more pieces of metal to come crashing down into the destroyed lab. One such piece began falling directly above Murph. He could hear the crumbling, and turned and looked up as it started to cave in. He saw the piece just as it began to break loose, and already knew that it was heading for him._

"_AUGH!"_

_As the piece came down, Murph acted purely on impulse and attempted to dodge it; by moving backwards. He ended up flipping right over the railing behind him as well._

_However, unlike his comrade and his leader, he managed to reach a hand out in time to grab the edge of the metal, next to one of the vertical bars, just before he could fall freely. The piece of the ceiling slammed down onto the metal, inches from where his hand held onto the edge for dear life._

_Murph hung there, hanging on by one hand, above the lower floor. He twisted around and looked below him to his left. He could see the two men still lying limp on the floor, next to each other. Both seemed completely dead as they lied there, unmoving. However, after a few moments, he could see some brief movement from Jack as he attempted to sit up. Similarly, he could barely see Dr. M's eyes move slowly in their sockets, turning to look up at Murph._

_Then, Murph noticed what was more important: What was _directly _below him._

_The tank in the middle of the row of three, beneath him and wide open. Its bubbles and slight waves caused by occasional rumbles and explosions was taunting him as he remained suspended above it. He was terrified again, and quickly swung his other hand up to grab the vertical bar, attempting to lift himself up before he could fall._

_However, Murph already had trouble. He struggled to lift himself up, but was unable to do so due to his large weight. After the first try, he sunk back down so that his arms were stretched out, the chubby fingers still tightly gripping the metal. He refused to let go, but was unable to move up._

_Another cave-in._

_While the pieces that fell from the ceiling weren't nearly as large, they fell much closer to where Murph was. This time, two small but heavy pieces fell right onto Murph's fingers on his right hand, with one piece also clipping several fingers of his left hand on the vertical bar. The pain overtook his willpower, and he instantly lost his grip on the railing and plunged straight down through the air towards the tank._

_Murph issued one final, deep, guttural scream as he tumbled down. Despite it being only 15 feet, it felt like an eternity before he slammed into the thick green liquid within the vat. He was completely enveloped and was sucked in, being completely suffocated and consumed within a matter of seconds. This quick death spared him the pain of the liquid's corrosive effects as it quickly began eating away at his submerged body._

_On the floor next to the tank, Jack had just managed to prop himself up on one arm and lift his head before he registered his partner's screaming from above. He looked up just in time to catch a final, brief glimpse of Murph before he landed in the tank to his right. What concerned him soon after was not the death of Murph, but the resulting tidal wave of waste that rose from the tank following his large landing._

_Dr. M himself, lying flat on the ground, did hear the scream, but could barely look in Murph's direction. He fell out of his peripheral vision, and Dr. M could only listen to his scream be abruptly cut off with a thick, somewhat slow splash. At the last moment, he could see the curtain of dark green rise up above him before it landed on him._

_Jack briefly jumped back, covering his face with one arm, as the wave of chemical waste slammed down next to him. He could only watch as it completely covered the entire right side of Dr. M. The moment of contact between the chemicals and the skin resulted in a horrible hissing sound, and steam rose up from his body immediately._

_The pain that Dr. M felt in his right leg, in his left hand, and in his whole life, could have never possibly amounted up to the pain he felt in that one moment when the chemical waste hit him. It was a horrible burning sensation that struck his entire right side at once, penetrating through his fur and skin like a train through a wall of paper. It soon started sinking down, and he could see the steam rising from his own body, hear the sizzling as the chemicals did their damage, and feel the burning as half of his body was deformed forever._

_The burning, like a bucketful of cold water, instantly gave Dr. M a burst of energy. He issued a long, terrible scream of pain, and his hands – one intact, one burning as well – flew up to his face, clutching the right side of it in pain, the contact of burning hand to burning face only making it hurt even more._

_Despite the renewed energy that Dr. M had, it soon vanished in a matter of seconds, as the chemicals sank in and began doing their real work inside him. In his last few moments of consciousness, he could see his remaining henchman Jack leaning over him, reaching down to grab him, just before it turned to black._

Dr. M turned and looked out the massive window behind his chair, a forlorn look on half of his face.

"Despite my near-death – or, should I say, _half-_death – experience, I managed to survive as my loyal man Jack carried me back to the boat, where I was able to receive proper medical attention as it left the island in its last moments."

"How?" Sly asked incredulously. "How could you have survived that?"

"You would have been amazed by the equipment our emergency medical team had. Just as impressive as the technology around the island. Of course, while I was still saved from death, the scars will always be here. As I knew they would always be there. I had seen several instances of what that acid could do to a man. To survive is to be the luckiest man alive."

"But if you knew that you would be so hideously scarred, what could possibly give you the determination to continue on?"

"Willpower, my boy. Mind over matter. In my last few moments, my thoughts were: 'I can't die yet. Not now. There's still work to be done.'"

"Work? What work? The Vault was all you ever cared about, and it was caving in. What more was there for you to do? I mean, you were forever leaving behind the one thing you cared about the most in your whole life."

Just as Sly finished the last word, Dr. M instantly burst into a fit of maniacal laughter. He threw his head back and issued a scratchy, throaty laugh. It was deep and slightly strained, occasionally interrupted by coughs or intakes of breath. Overall, it was probably the most disturbing laugh Sly had ever , once he finished laughing, he regained his breath and replied. "Did you really think, boy, that _that_ was the one thing I cared about the most in my whole life? Did you really think that that was my life's work, that Vault? That island? Oh, no, no, no…No. You really don't know anything, do you, Sly?"

Sly gave him a blank expression in return, silently telling him to answer for him.

"Very well. You see, that Vault and all the wealth inside was not my life's dream. It was anything but. I will tell you what my life's dream truly was."

By this time, Dr. M had guided himself back to the throne and slowly slipped in, resting his cane at his side.

"My life's dream, Sly, is not what most people generally desire. Tell me, Sly; what are some common things that a typical person desires in every-day life? Go on, don't be shy."

"Money?"

"Good. Another."

"I don't know…fame?"

"Yes. You're one off. There's just one more in there…"

"Power?"

"YES!" Dr. M suddenly burst out loudly, startling Sly. "Power, my boy! Power! Control! The ability to control everything! Power is what I am after. And not just any kind of power. Not the power that that police chief of a small town may have, or the power that one governor of a single state may have, or even the power that a president or king might have. No, my boy, I am talking about power over everything. Power over the whole world."

"What, so now you're playing God?"

"In a way, yes. Believe it or not, I had these visions…these dreams, ever since I was young. And those dreams carried on into my teenage years, and straight into my adulthood. Dreams of having it all. Power. Control. World domination. It is every man's dream, is it not?"

"More like the insane man's dream."

"Insane, or determined? Think about it, Sly. Surely you studied your basic world history as a child in that rundown orphanage? Surely you know of all the great people who have made their mark on history by attempting to gain control of the entire world. Conquerors. Warriors. Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan, Alexander the Great…all of those men who came so close, but never came close. And not just those from the BC years. There have even been some from our most recent century. Adolf Hitler, for example? They have come and gone with each generation, each being slightly more successful than the last. Sooner or later, one will finally succeed. And _I_ intend to be that one.

"I always believed that there were flaws in every government. There was always tension, or conflict, or scandals, or controversy. The corrupt governments don't know how to handle each other. The greatest world powers, North Korea, China, America, Iran, all making nuclear threats against each other. Most democracies are too large to be properly controlled. Most republics are unreliable. Most monarchs are too unstable or unprepared for the job. But not me. No, not me. If I were given the task of ruling over all the people in this world, I could handle it no problem. I am strong mentally and intellectually. If I just had the chance, I would do the world a favor; rid it of these corrupt governments, and there would be no more division. No more conflict. We would all be one nation, under the rule of yours truly. We would no longer have these racial or nationalistic conflicts, because we would all be one world, under Dr. M.

"But, as always, most ideas have a way of receding to the back of your mind over the years. Ever so slowly, those visions grew fainter and fainter. But they never vanished. But, for the most part, I did not focus on those visions. I focused on how to _achieve_ those visions. And, of course, in a world where money talks, I knew that I could never even begin to develop my means of gaining world domination without the proper monetary support."

"So that's why you joined my father?"

"In a way, yes. You see, your father, myself, and McSweeny had all known each other ever since _we_ were young as well. Just like you and your friends. He recruited myself and McSweeny at that time, and we became the first generation of the Cooper Gang. It was only too perfect that he wanted to recruit me at the same time I wanted a way to earn more money for myself. Your father, like myself, had visions of something new, although not nearly as grand as mine. He had envisioned himself becoming the first Cooper to ever have accomplices, partners, if you will. No one before him had done that. And it didn't necessarily hurt him.

"Over the years – several decades, if I recall – we had pulled off jobs all across the globe, and the money and valuables kept pouring in. During our golden years, all the way to the last year we were together as a group, we were wealthy and successful. We had become internationally known as the Cooper Gang, just like you are now. But we always managed to escape. Escape from the police, and escape with the money. Even when the final amount gathered overall was distributed among the three of us upon our retirement, it was still a considerable amount. Thus, I had acquired the money necessary to begin my research, experimentations, and finally, my creations. My means for gaining control of the whole world like no person ever has before."

"Means like the second Clockwerk and the second Death Ray?"

"Precisely. Operation: The Third Day, and The Omega Project. Exactly, Sly. But, as powerful and revolutionary as those two creations were, they were nothing in comparison to my last alternative. They were more like…potato guns."

At this, Sly raised an eyebrow. "A weapon that annihilated nearly half of the world over the course of six months is like a potato gun?"

"Compared to what I have prepared here, yes! It is! Oh, come, Sly, come! You simply _must _see what I have here on this humble little island of mine."

With that, Dr. M rose from the throne slowly and gracefully, clutching his cane as he stood up, and walked slowly down the steps. In the brief moment when Dr. M passed by, Sly noticed Belyeau reach into his pocket and retrieve the earpiece communicator he had confiscated earlier and hand it off to Dr. M. The small piece disappeared into his black robe.

Sly was then ushered forward by Belyeau, and followed. When they reached the elevator, they stepped inside and headed down the shaft.

Following the same rickety ride down the old elevator, they re-entered the grand rotunda, where the four guards that Dr. M had dismissed earlier were waiting.

"You two, come with us." Dr. M commanded, gesturing to the two who had already been in the throne room when Belyeau and Sly arrived. "You two, remain here." He ordered to the two who were already stationed at the ground level elevator door.

They walked down the main corridor, then turned sharply down a corridor to the right. A massive metal door awaited them, standing eight feet tall in its frame. Sly glanced at it, scanning it up and down as they approached it. Unlike the many doors on the Death Ray, this didn't have any keyboards, scanning devices, or cameras anywhere on it.

Just as he was wondering how they'd get in, the door suddenly started to open, slowly rising up into the ceiling. Sly could see many large, thick metal cylinders in the bottom of the door, lifting up out of corresponding holes in the doorframe. They passed under it, hit by a chilly breeze coming from the cold, dark hallway. As they entered, the massive door closed behind them.

Anticipating the question, Dr. M, without even looking back at Sly, tapped the blocky, electronic plug device on his head. "It's like a homing beacon of sorts. It's the control center for all systems on the island. And due to being permanently attached to my brain and my brain only, only I can use it. You see, it connects to my brain and reads all brainwaves emulating from it. Basically, I can think a command and it does so. Every single little technological twist and turn, I control."

Sly said nothing.

They were now in a dark, long hallway with a curved, rounded shape. There was a single, bright white light bulb in the ceiling every twenty feet, the light reflected by the sleek metal. Other than that, it was completely dark. The five sets of feet coming down on the metal floor was a series of light thumps that echoed down the hall, reverberating back up to them.

After what seemed like an endless walk down the hall, they arrived at a similar door. As they approached it, it opened just like the last one did.

Now they found themselves in a massive laboratory, obviously in one of the massive warehouses they had seen as they approached the island. The set-up in here was truly amazing. Many scientists in white lab coats and holding clipboards or stacks of paper were bustling around like it was an office. Some scientists stood at long tables, faces pressed into microscopes. Some were typing away frantically on computers. But the one thing about them that caught Sly's attention was the fact that their movements were so…robotic. They all moved in straight, swift strides. Never faltering from where they were going for even an instant. Movements so smooth that they seemed supernatural. There was not a single voice throughout the lab. The only sounds were from the rapid clacking of the keys at the computer consoles. Even their footsteps were silent, even on the metal floor. None of them acknowledged the presence of the five newcomers.

The five men stood there for a few long seconds. Sly glanced all around, absorbing his surroundings.

"Welcome, my dear boy, to the Terrestrial Laboratory, or, as some call it, 'The Land Lab.' Here, we experiment on our earth-bound weapons. As you can see, all of our personnel work hard, all around the clock, never deviating from their work for a second. Even as I, their employer and owner, stand before them, they do not break bearing for even a second. They only react when I tell them to. They only speak when spoken to."

And with that, Dr. M started to walk further into the lab, the four of them right behind him.

"Do you know what we do here, Cooper?"

"I can't imagine."

"Two words for you, my boy: Genetic engineering. A true miracle of modern science. A biological benefit, if you will. Some of the most fascinating combinations are achieved through this method. Some of the deadliest weapons you'll ever know, Sly Cooper, are born right here."

At that moment, they stopped by a row of three scientists lined up at separate computer consoles, rapidly clicking away on the keyboards. Dr. M stopped at the one in the middle of the group.

"Wright."

"Yes, sir?" The scientist asked without even deviating from his typing for even a second. He spoke with a thick, nasally voice, just as Sly expected. Almost like Bentley.

"Precisely how many have been completely produced now?"

"One moment, sir." The man named Wright then minimized the window he was in and clicked on a new one, enlarging it to fit the whole screen. There were several columns containing various scientific names and numbers. At the very bottom was a larger number.

"Exactly 7,593 have been produced, sir."

"Excellent. Resume with your work."

"Yes, sir."

Dr. M turned to face Sly with the smuggest of grins.

"As you were just informed, Cooper, there are nearly 8,000 of them on standby, waiting to be released."

"Under 8,000 doesn't sound nearly as sufficient to take on the whole world, if that's what you're implying."

They started walking again.

"Ah, but it is! You see, the strength does not necessarily lie in numbers, my boy, but in the strength and power in each individual. Surely you remember the creatures you and your friends encountered back at Kaine Island?"

"You mean the ones we defeated so easily?"

Dr. M chuckled, even in the face of this insult. "Ah, but that is the very point! You see, they had never faced actual combat prior to your invasion. So, it was like an aircraft's first run."

"More like the _Titanic_'s first voyage."

"And that is where we intend to correct the mistakes of the originals. Learn from their failures. They were clearly not ready. But that experience allowed us to return to the drawing board, tackle all potential flaws and whatnot, and improve them. _Perfect_ them, actually. You see, our true goal, our main intention, is to create the ultimate killing machines. The most fearless warriors. The perfect guardians. The true, solid enforcers of our new world order. Most powerful creatures have to accept a negative for a positive, for example. The common wild moose, for example, sacrifices intelligence for strength. The cobra has agility and speed rather than a protective covering. But not our minions. They are to possess the top four traits of a true warrior: Speed, strength, protection, and intelligence."

"There's no such thing as perfect."

"Up until now, Cooper. Up until now. You will see for yourself that these creatures are truly indestructible. Once you see with your own eyes, you can no longer deny it. Seeing is believing, Cooper."

"Then show me."

"Very well. This way, if you please."

Belyeau ushered him forward, and they walked through the rest of the laboratory. Eventually, they left all of the bustling scientists and activity behind when they came upon an even larger metal door, at least twice the size of the first ones they had encountered. It opened automatically as well, although it noticeably took a long time to do so. Once it finally lifted up, they stepped through and into a more natural-looking room, as the walls were solid rock. Ahead of them was a single elevator with wire mesh walls, a single light bulb in it, and many wooden support beams around it. There was a noticeable chain and pulley system above it. One of the guards yanked open the gate, and they stepped in. The same guard closed it, then flipped a large, rusty lever to the down position. With a jerk and loud rattling of chains, accompanied with the sound of rusty gears starting and turning, the elevator lowered down into the shaft.

The shaft was almost completely black, were it not for the light bulb, which was swaying as the car descended down the old shaft. The air inside the shaft was actually very chilly, but Sly could detect a heat coming from below, growing stronger as they neared their destination. Then, before he knew it, the elevator screeched to a halt, the chains overhead swaying wildly before calming down. Sly expected for them to exit the elevator the same way they entered, but to his surprise, the guard moved to the back wall and opened up the gate there, and they stepped off of the wood and onto solid rock. They moved forward a little bit, and Sly saw a gleam up ahead. Another metal door.

It, too, opened the moment they arrived at it. Once it was open, they stepped through into an unknown chamber, deep beneath the surface and the laboratory above them. At first, it was completely dark. Sly could barely even see the small form of Dr. M right in front of him.

Just then, there was a brilliant flash of white light that illuminated the entire area. Sly cringed and was temporarily blinded, shutting his eyes tight and shaking his head, taking a few moments to adjust before opening them again. What he saw before him was unbelievable.


	7. Revelation

Revelation

_An island in the Pacific Ocean; Thursday, July 3rd, 2008, 11:57 P.M..._

It had all happened so fast. In less than an hour, Dr. M had given Sly a basic tour of the entire island, all of their laboratories, their containment chambers, the underground caves, everything. Sly had seen it all with his own eyes. All of the hideous, unbelievable monsters just waiting to be released upon the world. They lined the cages in a majority of the other buildings on the island. From the "Land Lab" to the "Aerial Aviary" – containing all of the airborne monsters, which could reach speeds equivalent to a 747 – to the "Water World" – the underground, underwater cave containing all of the aquatic monsters. And all of the creatures, whether by air, by land, or by sea, were all equally horrifying. Their mixes, their capabilities, and their numbers.

He was in a daze when he, Belyeau, and Dr. M finally arrived back in the throne room.

"I know this must come as quite a shock to you, my boy. At least, introducing it so suddenly."

Sly said nothing, still in a daze.

"I'm sure the Water World was quite a shock to you? After all, the Great White Alligator truly is a powerful blend, is it not? As are the Octoshark and the new and improved Pirahctopus."

He finally reached his throne and slowly settled back down. "I always have been fond of the originals. But as wonderful as the Cobra-Tiger and Lobsterdile are, I wanted a lot of the focus to be put on the new Saber Toothed Wolf-Bear. But they're all of a far superior race, in my personal opinion, than the airborne creatures. As you may remember, we hadn't quite had enough time to develop the aerial branch by the time you and your late friends arrived. The Eagle-Hawk seems basic enough, but with the new and improved Whale-Fly leading the fleet, it will be a most valuable asset."

He chuckled, but when he noticed that Sly was still staring down at the floor in a daze, he realized that it was time to turn to a subject that would undoubtedly catch Sly's full attention.

"But first and foremost, I must finish telling you the story. There is so much to tell! You may sit down, if you wish; it is going to be a long story.

Even though Sly felt like a fool, he was tired from all that he had been through in the last two weeks. He slowly let himself drop to the cold metal floor of the platform. Belyeau remained standing, a watchful eagle's eye on him.

"So, what is it about Clockwerk that you have to tell me?"

"Let me just start from the beginning, and slightly refresh your memory. Now, as you can imagine, this kind of operation takes many years of planning."

"No kidding."

"It also takes the considerable amount of money. Now, obviously, I had been able to obtain both of those over time, working with your father. But there was still one more factor. One more crucial element that I simply had to have in order for the plan to be put into full effect: A base of operations. A secure, secret, isolated location where I could freely begin experimentation. Over the course of my travels around the world shortly after the gang dissolved, I came across this island. I was truthfully shocked at how close it was to Hawaii, and yet it still somehow managed to remain off most official maps and atlases. But, of course, one base is not enough. You must always have an alternative, in case something were to go wrong with the other. Almost immediately, the number one candidate came to mind: Kaine Island."

"Of course, I will never forget my first time seeing that amazing island. It was shortly after we had agreed to put an end to our lives of crime and go our separate ways. McSweeny and I already had our individual shares. But your father asked one last favor of us: Help him take his share to the place where all members of the Cooper family take their wealth and hide it when they retire. So, he had us load up his rather hefty sum of treasure to take halfway across the earth to that small, uncharted island in the South Pacific. You see, that was back in the early 1960's, when security was not nearly as advanced as it is now. Even security just prior to September 11th was relatively light; so imagine 40 _years_ prior!"

Sly said nothing.

"So, through a long, tiresome process, we finally arrived at the island with all of the treasure safely in hand. Mainly due to the strength of McSweeny, we were able to load it all into a chamber of the Vault set aside and completely vacant, awaiting your father's arrival. It was quite a pile, let me tell you.

"I feel that I should temporarily interrupt my story and inform you of some valuable information. Apparently, the Cooper family didn't own that island at first. It was originally owned by a shadowy organization that had possession of it for almost as long as 500 years."

At this, Sly raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really."

"Wait, how do you know all this? And how do I even know that you're telling me the truth? McSweeny-."

"I am well aware of what McSweeny said to you about the Vault. In response to your questions, in order: First of all, when we arrived at the island, naturally, both myself and McSweeny were inquisitive about the nature of the island, and had our fair share of questions. Your father answered all of our questions, and gave me the basic information that I am telling you now, and am about to tell you now."

"But…McSweeny said that the Coopers had owned it all this time; ever since Slytunkhamen."

"Well, McSweeny wasn't one for remembering everything, and often giving the wrong information. He wasn't the brightest man you will ever know, you see; just like your friend Murray."

Sly gritted his teeth.

"Now, as I was saying: Prior to that, they had hidden all of their treasure in another location. But around the time of Henriette 'One-Eye' Cooper, your family finally became aware of it. She was the one who discovered the island during one of her usual patrols in the ocean, searching for ships that would be waiting to cross her path. She found the island, and soon after had a rather violent encounter with some of the inhabitants; its owners. However, as she found herself outnumbered, outmatched, and held at gunpoint, she realized that there was no way to fight out of the situation. So, she did the next best thing: She negotiated. She found out then that the island was a massive storing area for their stolen goods, in a massive Vault built into the main mountain in the center of the island, as well as underground and beneath the water. The truth was, they had actually grown sick of the island, and wanted to remove it from their ownership. Only then was she too eager to agree to sign the Deed to the island and take control of it from them, seeing as how the island was far bigger and more secure than the original. Plus, it had that secure Vault already there and ready to use, whereas the original location simply had their treasure stored in a cave with little to no secure protection from outsiders. So, they agreed to let her have the island. However, they did mention that they'd be keeping a close eye on her; every generation of their organization would."

"What _was_ this organization?"

"Even I do not know. Maybe they were terrorists. Or smugglers. Or refugees from war or colonization in the Western world. But whoever they were, they made good on their promise. They apparently had someone check up on every member of the Cooper line who came back to the island for the next few decades, as each descendant continued the ever-tiresome process of transferring all of their wealth to the island, as their new Vault. The inspections and interrogations stopped around 1770. But each and every member remained cautious that they were still out there, watching."

"Why?"

"Fear the unknown." Dr. M simply replied with a grin. "Anyway, so, Henriette and all descendants from there not only brought their own sums to their new Vault, but also worked to transfer the previous piles from past ancestors out of the original hideout and into the new one. They finally caught up around 1932, about the time Otto Von Cooper; your grandfather.

"Now, having gotten quite off-subject here, I shall return to the year that the three of us first came to the island. So, while McSweeny and your father did most of the work of loading the treasure into the Vault, I myself took time off to look around the island and study it. I was mutely fascinated with the island. Its natural formation was incredible; so many small fragments and broken-off sections; so many rock barriers and caves and natural barriers; it seemed ideal for a hidden, secure fortress that no one would ever discover. The only hints of man's presence on the island were the Vault door and the many Cooper statues, lining the perimeter of the island like the Statues of Easter Island. Its natural seclusion made it an ideal hideout. Its existence was hardly known. It couldn't have been placed more perfectly; it was farther south in the Pacific Ocean than most general shipping or air routes, and it was also frequently storm-prone, as you saw the very night you arrived. The closest continent was South America; an unstable continent governed by multiple different countries, often corrupted by drug cartels and plagued with coups. Certainly not the kind that would be out looking for new islands on a regular basis. It was absolutely perfect.

"After they had finally transferred all of the valuables into the Vault and sealed the door once more, we departed. So, the Gang dissolved and we all went our separate ways. It was the year 1965."

For the first time since the story started, Sly finally spoke. "A year before I was born."

"Correct again, my boy. Anyway, so while your father and his wife settled down and raised you, I slowly began planning the whole thing out, covering every loose end and insuring that this would be the ultimate scheme.

"This, my boy, is where it gets good." Dr. M added with a chuckle.

Sly felt the hints of anger start to return, knowing that his definition of "good" and Dr. M's definition varied greatly.

"I knew that, if I wanted my experiments to go completely unharmed, uninterrupted, and without suspicion from anyone else, I had to acquire the Deed to the island. The very Deed first signed by Henriette Cooper, and, at that time, in the possession of your father. As I said before, the organization remained suspicious of your ancestors and watched them throughout the years, with the Deed being the only thing preventing them from ever daring to attack anyone who came to the island. Even after they supposedly disappeared, I knew that I wasn't to let my guard down for an instant.

"So, if I was to do anything with, or on, that island, I needed that Deed. And I knew for a fact that your father kept that Deed tucked away between the pages of none other than the _Thievius Raccoonus_, locked away in a vault in your , I began making plans to…_acquire_ it. Of course, I knew the most important thing was that my identity, let alone my role in the attack on your house, could not be known or implied. I needed someone else to take the blame for it."

"Clockwerk and the Fiendish Five."

"You're only half right. Now this is where I return to the subject of 'Clockwerk'."

Dr. M's sudden use of air quotes on the word "Clockwerk" struck Sly as odd, and obviously implied that there was something new he was going to tell Sly about Clockwerk.

"So, I knew that I had to create my own criminal organization that would spend several years establishing themselves in the world of crime as five of the most brilliant criminal minds imaginable. I needed them to be ruthless enough so that they wouldn't care if they murdered someone and had half of the law enforcement community after them for it. So, I gathered together four brilliant criminals to do the job."

"The Fiendish Five."

"Not quite, Cooper, but you are getting so much better at this. Anyway, so I found four criminals who, at that time, were already fairly well-known and had committed their fair share of crimes prior to then. I convinced them to join together as a group, called the Fiendish Four. I then waited for the next eight years as they committed many high-class and high-profile heists all across the globe, raking in billions in a few years. I knew that their four wildly different, but all supremely beneficial, fields of expertise combined would make them the ultimate group of criminals, and would forever make their mark on the history of crime. 'The Fiendish Four' would be an internationally known, and feared, name. By the time you were eight years old, they were infamous enough to pull off the job I had in mind for them.

"The only problem I faced was my own involvement in the scheme, as I already mentioned. Prior to that, I had not given that issue any thought, and had only called in those four. Only after I had established the group did I realize that I had to create a new leader for them. Someone who would ultimately take the blame and not care. Someone who would make it The Fiendish _Five_. Thus, I had to create my own criminal."

Sly already got the implication, but absolutely refused to believe it. "You…don't mean?"

"Oh, I mean." Dr. M grinned evilly as he let the impossible realization sink in. "I had to create a criminal; this one previously unheard of by anyone save for myself, and the future Fiendish Five. Thus, I decided to create the robotic owl who would soon become…do finish my sentence for me, please."

"_Clockwerk_."

"Right again!"

Sly's head was spinning. Dr. M's words were hitting him like a locomotive. He refused to accept it. He fought it.

"But…No…NO. That…that's not possible. Clockwerk's been alive for thousands of years; ever since Slytunkhamen, and maybe even before then!" The desperation in his voice was obvious.

"Yet another lie, Cooper. However, unlike McSweeny's misinformation about your family's ownership of the Vault, this is a lie that no one specifically told you. This is a lie that you made up yourself."

"That's absurd. All of the proof…"

"Let me tell you all of the proof, bit by bit. I must allow my story to get sidetracked for a while, though. But I'm sure you've got plenty of time on your hands."

Sly's anger grew even more, now gritting his teeth harder.

"So, first of all, let me ask you this: Did your father himself ever tell you about this Clockwerk?"

"No. Why would he? I was only eight at the time; I was too young to learn something that horrible."

"Nevertheless, he never told you himself, did he? He never even implied the existence of Clockwerk?"

"Well, no…"

"Alright, second question: What exactly did the official Interpol file on Clockwerk say about him?"

"Well, all that it said was that he masterminded the attack on my home…"

"Strike number two. That's _all_ it said. It had no other background information whatsoever. All they had for a mugshot was a silhouette of Clockwerk, correct?"

"Yes."

"Now for the third try: Did the _Thievius Raccoonus_ itself ever mention this Clockwerk? Surely you've read the entire thing by now; did it?"

"Well, now that you mention it…"

"'Now that I mention it'!" Dr. M exclaimed. "Exactly the point! You never bothered to bring Clockwerk's existence into question until just now! And I'm afraid it's too late for that now. So, basically, you have no reliable input from your father, Interpol, or your family's precious book.

"Now, let me ask you this: What is Clockwerk?"

Before Sly could even speak, Dr. M answered for him.

"Clockwerk is – or rather, _was_ – a massive owl who lived back as early as 1300 B.C. But Clockwerk had a wingspan of nearly 200 feet; equivalent to a Boeing passenger jet! Cooper; how can any bird grow to be that large? How?"

"Well…"

"And then, he was apparently able to live for thousands of years just by _hating_? If that was possible, many of us would be centuries old."

"Uh…"

"And he was able to replace his entire body with robotic parts to turn himself into a machine? How could this kind of technology be achieved?"

"Says the man behind that Death Ray, and a second, even larger version of Clockwerk."

"I'm talking about at the time he apparently did that; as early as 1000 B.C. Electricity hadn't even been harnessed yet!"

"Well, I guess…"

"You don't have any proof, Cooper! Only now, at the end, do you realize how simply inane and unbelievably false Clockwerk's existence was! Only now do you realize how truly naïve and stupid you are! Honestly; you fall for the most childish of science fiction stories; I'll never understand how you've made it this far."

Sly was now ready to return fire. "Well, how do you explain those images in the _Thievius Raccoonus_, huh? What's your answer to that?"

"That is what I was just getting to. Anyway, so upon putting your father out his misery and taking the book, I knew that I had to leave some kind of imprint, the slightest hint that, despite no mention from anyone else in your life, Clockwerk truly had been around for many years, and thus would only harden your belief that he was behind it all. I took five particularly prominent images, each from eras spread out over a course of several hundred years at least, and copied them, perfectly, seamlessly, but with one detail change."

"The silhouettes in the background."

"Exactly. Supposed 'proof' that Clockwerk had lived for many millennia. I knew that that would be enough to convince you, so naïve at the time. That was all it took."

"So…you're saying…"

"Go ahead. Say it for me, I insist."

"You…created…Clockwerk." Sly felt like his fingertips themselves would puncture through his palm. "You…killed…my father."

"Once that was accomplished, all the pieces of the puzzle were in place, and the plan was ready to be executed. After that, I had the four members, and 'Clockwerk', tear up the book into sections containing any content that they so pleased, knowing that the secrets and techniques of the Cooper line, while insignificant to me, would be satisfactory pay to them. But, after replacing those five images with the fake ones, I took only one thing from that book."

"The Deed to the island. You killed my father just to get a Deed."

Dr. M ignored the last sentence. "Once I had acquired that, I, as you should say, 'fell off the grid.' I took my equipment on my own, privately-chartered boat, with a crew of henchmen, across the Pacific to the island, leaving my four protégés to commit their own deeds with the sections of the book they had taken."

"Hold on. One thing still doesn't make sense." Sly was only saying it more for himself than for Dr. M. He was saying this to stifle his own rising, boiling anger. "What about your men back at the Krak-Karov Volcano, and the facility there? Vlotho? He himself told me the organization's entire origin, and how they studied the original Clockwerk, and made their own replica to be taken in his place, and then the Second Clockwerk…"

"Ah. But that was simply yet another elaborate part of my scheme. I figure that I might as well get briefly side-tracked once more to explain this part of the story to you as well. Now, ORNWOR is indeed a legitimate organization. However, it hardly had its roots in the Soviet Union. Oh, no. It dates back much farther than 1987. You could even say that it began in 1965, after I first discovered the existence of the Cooper Vault and left your father's gang for good. As I constructed the first Clockwerk, I made plans for all of my other masterpieces. The Death Ray, the Mutant Army, and so on. I began using my share of the fortune to pay all men who responded to my secret, coded propaganda for my soon-to-be organization. I set up my base of operations in an original, much smaller location earlier on, testing with smaller experiments – babies compared to today – knowing that I would soon have a larger headquarters soon enough. I came up with certain origin stories that I could use to fool others. By 1987, I had only one left."

"The Order of the Black Axe, founded by crazy ex-Soviet soldiers, eventually changed to ORNWOR."

"Correct. I had already established my chain of command, including Vlotho, Grant, and Belyeau here. I left them with that origin imprinted into their minds, to be used as their cover story if they were ever discovered. In a way, that facility at the Volcano was the top of the three-level pyramid of ORNWOR. It was the third, and least significant, base of operations. It was simply where we constructed the Second Clockwerk, First Death Ray, and Second Death Ray. The second base was this island, which, as you know, is now the only one remaining. It was simply our storage area at that time; the place where all mutants we manufactured were transferred, as you saw earlier. And the first, of course, was Kaine Island. It was where I often lived, and where the mutants and other main experiments were performed.

"This island was the second place I went to after Kaine Island, having successfully killed your father and taken all of the documents that I needed for myself, letting my four henchmen go off on their own and do as they pleased with their respective sections of the book."

Even though Sly wanted nothing more than to kill Dr. M with his bare hands at that moment, he knew that he could not. Even now, he could feel Belyeau's powerful presence behind him. He decided to ease up and pretend to let his guard down, in hopes of fooling Dr. M. He slowly unballed his fists and, for the first time, he was able to put two and two together and add his own monologue to the speech. "And with no knowledge of the Deed's existence, but knowing the fate of the _Thievius Raccoonus_ and where it was, I was going on a wild goose chase all around the globe with absolutely no knowledge that the real treasure was still missing."

"Exactly! That was the next phase of my plan. The 10 years you spent in that silly little orphanage, of course, bought me plenty of time to do my research and experiments, but the time after that where you were out to reclaim the book bought me even more time."

"So you spent all those years on the island, trying to reach the treasure, before I even knew that you existed."

"Precisely."

"OK, so what about that ordeal two years later with the KLAWW Gang? Was that another scheme of yours?"

"No, I'm afraid. I had nothing to do with that."

"Really?"

"I wish I had; it would've bought me even more time. But, you see, I had no intention of the Clockwerk surviving your attack. To me, it was just another minion that I could easily recreate whenever I wanted to, as made evident two years ago. I honestly thought it was destroyed myself. But, apparently, I had made it too strong, and it survived being submerged in the lava of the Volcano."

"Wait…so, there was never a replica switched with the original, like Vlotho said?"

"No. That was yet another addition to my brilliant cover story, Sly. Why do you think you never actually _saw_ the supposed 'original Clockwerk' when you were at the facility? No, my boy, that Clockwerk remained in the lava up until Interpol forces came and retrieved it. I was quite surprised, not to mention amused, to hear that it was brought back to the Cairo Museum to be put on display. But ultimately, I figured that it would be safe enough there, anyway.

"That's where, for once in my life, I was wrong."

"See? No one's perfect."

Dr. M ignored him.

"I heard about the KLAWW Gang's involvement, and had to chuckle with myself. Sure, the parts were quite advanced, but they were not nearly as useful as they could be when put together. Separately, they were used just for their typical money-gathering schemes."

Dr. M shook his head.

"But, even if they were completely together, they were not as powerful as a certain someone believed they were."

"Arpeggio."

"I must admit, I was quite impressed with him. I had checked his criminal background; he was quite a fellow. Clearly the most superior intellectually out of all the other members of that Gang, and even of the Fiendish Five. Even more so than Sir Raleigh. I also had quite a bit of respect for him; he was the only member of that pathetic group who didn't care about money. But, sadly, he was mistaken. Those parts couldn't give one immortal life. I was actually surprised that he believed that could be true. And he paid the price for it. As did one late Captain Neyla."

"At least she deserved it."

"Quite true. But, as long as it bought me more time, and sent you more in the opposite direction, I was fine with it."

"And you had the perfect cover: Trying to get into the Vault."

"That's the real shocker to you, isn't it? No, my boy; See, the thing is, I could have easily destroyed that Vault door if I wanted to, but I didn't. I didn't care for the treasure. I had the island, the time, the Deed, the equipment, and the perfect setup for the creation of my army, just as you saw. Attempting to acquire the treasure was only a cover-up. 'It's just a typical treasure-hunter; some old man trying to get to the hidden treasure; nothing to see here.' That's what anyone who ever came along would think. But all along, while I pretended to try to get to the treasure, the real work was going on a full 24/7 in the underground caves and buildings all over the island."

"But you didn't even consider the treasure to be just slightly important? Maybe more money to fund your experiments?"

"That's the problem with you, Cooper, and everyone else I've ever been associated with. Money. That's all you ever care about. Money. Money is what causes wars. What drives people to kill each other. Who needs money? When you have _power_, you don't need money! Because with power, everything you ever need is at your fingertips! And money has one problem: It eventually runs out. Money is limited, but power is forever. More importantly, who needs money when the whole world is ripe for the picking? When everyone in it is at your feet? Conquered by my army, the world will be bowing down to me, and I wouldn't need money! Don't you see, my boy? The world is free."


	8. Showdown

Showdown

The invisible, wheelchair-bound turtle had long since shaken off his pure horror at the sights that were being transmitted to him through Sly's lenses. All of the horrifying, diverse, mutated, powerful, and deadly monsters that were locked up in the various laboratories throughout the island only made it clear how deadly their situation was. During the entire conversation with Dr. M – whose words were completely unheard by Bentley – Bentley had used the time to set up four explosives; one at each of the corners of the castle from the exterior. The castle was large and formidable, yes, but it was certainly old and weathered as well. These explosives would certainly be enough to cause severe damage when triggered. Only after Sly was led through the first few laboratories did Bentley realize that there were indeed important areas where the explosives needed to be placed further. Just as he had suspected, the massive warehouse – the location of the aerial monsters – was a key location. He would also, somehow, have to find a way into the underground caves where the "Land Lab" and the "Water World" were located.

Up to this point, his invisibility wasn't even really required due to the locations of the first four bombs being in a more remote area of the island. Now he had to head into the heart of the enemy's lair.

Steeling up his courage, Bentley returned to the sub and gathered four more explosives. Double-checking his cloaking device, he began negotiating the rough terrain as he eventually wheeled around the castle and found the path that the guards had led Sly up earlier that night. The wind was blowing wildly, slightly hindering his movements, and, had someone been right next to him, they just might have noticed the peculiar nature in which the raindrops seemed to stop and stream down in mid-air as they landed on the invisible surface.

But the path was empty. Most of the personnel had returned indoors due to the weather, and only a handful of guards – roughly two dozen – were scattered throughout the compound, usually standing guard at most entrances to most of the buildings.

He came down the path, leaving behind most of the rough, uneven terrain in favor of the flat plain at the lower, western end of the island that housed most of the structures and the docks. He proceeded with caution, moving slowly so as to not make his chair creak as he wheeled along, the four explosives sitting in the back compartment of his chair.

He made sure to be extra careful as he passed the first building, with two guards stationed at the door. It was identical to the two buildings directly beside it in a row, and as he passed by, he couldn't help but glance through one of the windows briefly. There were rows of beds and footlockers, and in the center of the room was a break table where four men sat around playing cards. A single candle illuminated the table and the various piles of chips that they were betting with.

Bentley continued on, extra quiet and sneaky as he passed by the guards, standing at attention in the small booths to protect them from the rain.

He continued on past the next two dormitories, onto the massive hangar further away – the "Aerial Aviary."

The massive, metal double doors were guarded, once again, by two guards – one at each side, standing at attention inside the small booths with fully automatic assault rifles held across their chests. A large metal lamp above the double doors shone down and illuminated the entrance. Across the metal doors, straight down the divide in the middle, were the words painted in white and all capital letters:

"AERIAL GENETICS LAB. NO ADMITTANCE. AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY."

He continued around past the guards, down to the first corner of the building. He scanned up and down the building, observing the full height and basic structure. Roughly the same size and general design of the hangar from the Volcano valley. And that had similarly been brought down by similarly-placed explosives.

_Almost too easy._ Bentley thought as he carefully removed the first explosive and began gently placing it against the corner of the building. He glanced over at the nearest guard, stationed roughly 50 feet away.

Once the device was planted and the 20-minute timer set in place, he quickly moved around the corner – out of any possible view of the guard – and continued to the next corner towards the back of the building.

And all the while, in a small portion of his bino-cu-com's screen that he had specifically reconfigured prior to their arrival, the live feedback of Sly's POV continued silently.

…

"But I'm afraid that I have shown you, told you, and revealed to you all that I can." Dr. M finished with a firm, but satisfied look on his face.

Sly furrowed his eyebrows and stiffened, preparing for the worst.

"But now…it is time for you to die."

Sly straightened up, maintaining a solid stance and clenching his fists.

"Belyeau." Dr. M called.

Belyeau snapped to attention behind Sly. "Yes, sir."

"You know what to do."

"Yes, sir." He repeated.

Before Sly could even react, he felt a swift and powerful blow to the back of the head as Belyeau delivered a quick spinning kick, knocking Sly forward and slightly off his feet as he flew forward about two feet, then collapsed to the ground face-first.

Then he felt a large, powerful grip take him by both ankles, lifting him slightly off the ground, then turning around suddenly and launching him by his feet down the stairs, where he rolled and tumbled to a stop in the middle of the chamber floor.

He slowly lifted his head up and looked over at the bag, containing all his confiscated possessions, still lying on the floor nearby.

He started to scramble to his feet, feeling the rush of air behind him as a massive foot came down, attempting to stomp on where he was just a moment ago.

He crawled furiously towards the bag, leaping forward just as he felt a single hand grab him by the ankle once more and started dragging him backwards across the floor.

Sly spun around and looked up at his foe, clinging tightly to his leg as he began to lift him up again.

This time, however, Sly reacted.

With a motion, Sly swung his free leg sideways and struck it across Belyeau's face, stunning him enough to release Sly. As he clutched his chin in a moment of pain, Sly glanced at his Cane, still tucked into Belyeau's belt. He quickly jumped up and yanked it out before Belyeau could react. As soon as he noticed that the Cane had been removed, he lunged forward with a spare hand.

Sly swung the Cane forward against Belyeau's knuckles with a slight crack, and the large hand retracted in pain.

Sly spun around while also moving backwards, putting some distance between him and his foe and allowing him to reorient himself while Belyeau recovered from the blow.

Belyeau straightened up and charged straight towards Sly, fist pulled back behind him for the next strike. Sly held his Cane horizontally in front of himself to block the blow, with Belyeau's fist striking the stem of the wooden Cane. Belyeau swung in his other fist for a lower cut, only for Sly to lower the Cane and block that hit as well.

Belyeau tried a new strategy with the third blow. Though it initially came in as a fist, Belyeau quickly extended his fingers and wrapped them around the stem of the Cane as Sly tried to block the third hit. With a firm grip, Belyeau effortlessly lifted the Cane up, and its owner with it. He raised his arm to its fullest extent and as high as possible, lifting Sly up so greatly that his dangling feet were level with Belyeau's chest.

Sly struggled with the Cane in the giant man's hand, and then, out of panic, began furiously kicking his feet against Belyeau's face in rapid succession.

After the fourth kick straight to the jaw, Belyeau stumbled backwards, giving a bit of strength into his spinning around and releasing the Cane, sending Sly tumbling across the floor.

Sly rolled across the floor and eventually slid to a stop, both feet flat on the floor as he knelt in a crouching position. Belyeau was already storming towards him.

…

Bentley had finished planting the four bombs around the Aerial Aviary, and he had managed to navigate his way around the mostly deserted and rocky island to the entrance to the first cave, nearly opposite the island from the Aviary. It was a long, downward slope into the island's core, where the massive metal door sat about 30 feet past the cave's actual entrance. A label marked:

"AQUATIC GENETICS LAB. NO ADMITTANCE. AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY."

As he expected, his Grapple Cam's distraction ability would come in handy once more.

As he hid behind several large rocks towards the entrance to the lab, he tossed the device out into the open of the cave path. Figuring that the two cameras at the top of the door would see the direction from which it came, he wheeled out from behind those rocks and pressed up against the cave wall just beside the door, seemingly out in the open. He then began cautiously pressing the distraction buttons.

"_OK, now how to get past this?_"

He then began navigating the Grapple Cam with its hook, first at a slanted angle, then moving, inch-by-inch, slowly towards the door.

It didn't take long for the door to open. As soon as it did, a hail of gunfire erupted from just inside, the bullets tearing across the ground and shredding the small device to pieces.

With a few quick hand gestures, the first five guards spread out and moved straight out of the door in a flanking formation. The one on the far right barely passed the invisible Bentley as he hugged the rock wall.

The one on the opposite end of the line had his gun trained on the cluster of rocks from which the device had been thrown. He then leapt sideways, landing in a semi-crouched position, and unloaded the rest of his magazine behind the rocks.

He quickly raised his barrel towards the ceiling, the slightest look of shock on his face, and spun back to his comrades.

"Clear."

"Move in for extraction." The squad leader ordered.

Roughly a dozen armed guards, all in uniform and assault rifles held across their chests, began marching out into the open. The first few guards at the front of the formation knelt down to pick up the shattered pieces.

Bentley took a deep breath and began slowly wheeling out from his hiding place. His cloaking device was still fully operational, and he moved, completely out of sight, towards the door.

"Secure the area. I want four of you guarding the cave entrance."

"Yes, sir."

Bentley slipped right through the door, past the remaining guards and the few computer monitors that showed the cameras' perspective just outside the door, as well as a few other controls, and continued further down the tunnel. As frustrating as it was, he had to move at a slow pace in order to maintain strict silence. He hugged the walls of the cave, so as to avoid physical contact with any passing personnel.

He continued further down the tunnel, still no other visible man-made features in sight, until it made a sharp left. When Bentley rounded the corner, he was mutely amazed and terrified by what he saw. He had already seen it through Sly's perspective, but seeing it in person added a whole new level to the gravity of the situation as it appeared before him.

It was a massive cave, with much more flat ground around him now, the ceiling of the cave significantly higher than the tunnel through which he had entered. At the center of the massive cave was a massive pool of water. The rocky ground surrounded most of the water like a barrier, save for the end of the pool directly opposite Bentley, where the water was directly against the wall with no flat ground between it, thus forming a crescent moon-shaped pathway around most of the body of water. There was a massive crane at one end of the pool, lined up against the cave wall and the arm bent at a lowered angle.

Not too far to his right, there was a large, rectangular metal structure lined with windows, through which Bentley could see several computers and control consoles, attended by white-coated men. Throughout the rest of the cave, there was a large variety of personnel moving back and forth with their daily activities. Off to his left, he could recognize the tunnel that led down to the specimen viewing area, which Sly had been led through during his tour of this area.

And between the crane and the control room, Bentley could see yet another tunnel that he also recognized from Sly's tour: The tunnel leading towards the "Land Lab," also located underground.

Bentley knew that he had brought along the last of his explosives – five left, to be exact. He knew that he would have to be sparing in dividing them up between the remaining two laboratories.

With another silent prayer, the invisible turtle began slowly moving towards the control room.

…

Sly swung his Cane forward at Belyeau, who effortlessly dodged under it and delivered a swift kick to Sly's side, sending him stumbling sideways as he tried his hardest to stay on his feet. He barely recovered in time for Belyeau's next hit.

This time, as Sly swung the Cane forward with one hand, he shot his other hand forward in a clenched fist. Thus, while Belyeau successfully blocked the Cane again, Sly's fist swung up underneath it and hit Belyeau in the middle of his chest. When Sly heard the impact and subsequent grunt signifying his successful hit, he started repeatedly punching the same spot again and again. Eventually, Belyeau caught Sly's fist before it could hit him again. Twisting Sly's free arm around, Belyeau spun around and threw Sly sideways, sending him rolling across the floor and eventually sliding to a halt on his feet.

Belyeau charged forward and stuck one foot out, planting it firmly against Sly's chest and kicking with all his might. Sly was knocked right off his feet and flew backwards, landing flat on the floor.

Already, Belyeau was towering above Sly, his foot raised high once again. But before he could bring it down, Sly rolled out of the way and leapt to his feet, wasting no time in thrusting his Cane underneath Belyeau's raised foot and yanking up. With his foot raised higher than he could hold, Belyeau was thrown off balance and fell straight backward, slamming against the cold hard floor.

Now the roles were completely reversed. Sly was now towering over Belyeau, but was even faster in delivering the next blow. He brought the Cane down across Belyeau's chest once, twice, then a third time…

Before the fourth hit, Belyeau spun his entire body sideways, rotating across the floor while also kicking up his legs. As he spun on the floor, his legs caught Sly's legs and knocked them right out from under him. Sly tripped and fell forward, landing on his stomach right next to Belyeau.

Both men, now lying on the floor, were quick in their reactions. Belyeau scrambled forward to throw himself on top of Sly, but Sly rolled out of the way just as Belyeau's fist slammed down onto the stone floor. Sly jumped up and then threw himself down towards Belyeau just as he rolled around to face up. Sly thrust his Cane straight down towards Belyeau's face, but Belyeau crossed his arms high in front of him, blocking Sly's arm and stopping the hooked end of the Cane just inches from his face.

Sly pulled his Cane back and thrust it forward again, only for Belyeau to cross his arms once more and block it.

As Sly tried to edge the Cane further towards his opponent's face, Belyeau thrust his hip upward while kicking his legs up at the same time. The force bucked Sly right off of Belyeau and sent him flying forward, landing facedown on the floor and sliding along across the cold, unforgiving stone.

Before Sly could even get to his knees, he felt a powerful hand grab him by the back of his shirt and pull him right off the floor, tossing him backwards and sending him sliding across the floor once more, hitting with an even harder impact and rolling wildly across it.

Sly started to scramble up, pulling himself to all fours. But just then, he felt an iron grip lock onto both of his ankles and lift up. His face first slammed back against the floor before he was yanked completely off the floor altogether. He was now upside-down, facing an inverted version of the towering raccoon.

Sly instinctively swung his Cane forward, only for Belyeau to catch it with one hand. In that moment, Sly released his Cane and threw a punch right into Belyeau's nose with a satisfying crunch.

Belyeau dropped both Sly and the Cane as he stumbled backwards, one hand flying up to cover his nose.

Sly scrambled to swipe up his Cane and rush forward, swinging the Cane again and striking it across both of Belyeau's knees, instantly dropping the giant. While Belyeau was still on his knees, Sly swung the Cane around and struck him in the back of the head, knocking him forward so that he fell flat onto the floor.

Sly stood over the fallen giant for a few long moments, the sound of his breathing being the only thing he could hear.

And then another burst of thunder outside the tower, in the still ever-raging storm.

Sly slowly turned towards the window, and the throne still positioned in front of it, and the disfigured scientist sitting in it.

"I'm impressed, Cooper. You have felled my giant…temporarily."

And then, Sly heard the rustling behind him. But before he could even turn around, he could feel a massive force slam into him from behind, tackling him and sending him flying forward, hitting the ground face-first and scraping along. Just as he started to sit upright, he could hear the footsteps rapidly approaching. He threw his whole body to the side just as Belyeau's foot swung straight up through the air where he had been a moment earlier.

Attempting to recreate the earlier successful tactic, Sly spun around and thrust his Cane forward…

…only for a massive fist to stop it just before it could reach Belyeau's leg. Sly watched in agony as the foot slowly came back down and settled softly on the floor. Then the fist pulled forward on his Cane, pulling him closer to the giant as he turned to face him.

Sly attempted to wrestle the Cane free, but Belyeau casually placed his other hand on the stem as well, maintaining a much larger and firmer grip than Sly ever could.

Belyeau then effortlessly pulled it right out of Sly's hands and swung it upward, catching Sly by the chin and knocking his head straight up. Belyeau twirled the Cane around and struck Sly with the hooked end of his own Cane, hitting him from the side and knocking him sideways, landing on the floor just a few feet from the base of the staircase.

Belyeau then threw the Cane at Sly, which bounced off his back with a slight jolt of pain before clattering against the steps next to him.

Sly grabbed his back in pain for just a moment, but quickly rolled over and started to stand up again. By now his vision was getting rather hazy, and he could feel the blood on his face from various wounds sustained in the fight. His hands fumbled with grabbing the Cane and lifting it back up into a defensive position.

Belyeau was already upon Sly and threw another left hook. Sly held up the Cane to deflect it, with Belyeau's fist flying just over Sly's head. But already, Belyeau was leaning over Sly and beginning to knock him off balance. With another grunt of pain and effort, Sly pushed his Cane forward and knocked Belyeau off of him and to the side. As Belyeau fell to the steps, Sly started backtracking up the stairs, well aware of the seated figure above and behind him.

Belyeau, watching his opponent advance towards his leader, quickly climbed to his feet and bounded up the stairs.

Sly swung the Cane forward once, then a second time, and then repeatedly to keep Belyeau at bay.

And Dr. M sat just two feet behind Sly.

Sly turned his head briefly to look at the hideous man as he sat, staring quite intently at the fight between his best henchman and his greatest rival.

But that moment was all that Belyeau needed. He charged forward and grabbed onto Sly's Cane, slowly moving to turn both men sideways towards the figure in the throne.

Sly managed to wrestle the Cane free and swung it wildly to the side, the hooked end heading straight for Dr. M.

Belyeau's fist swung out and grabbed the Cane's end, stopping it just inches from his superior's face.

Dr. M chuckled lightly.

Belyeau glanced at his leader, then at the weapon itself, and then back at Sly.

With Belyeau distracted by the Cane, Sly swung one leg around, bringing his foot behind Belyeau's leg and slamming it against the back of his left knee. With one leg suddenly kicked out from beneath him, Belyeau stumbled to the floor. With his enemy distracted, Sly pulled the Cane away from Dr. M, then flung it back in the same direction. Belyeau released the Cane and was sent tumbling across the floor, behind Dr. M's throne and closer to the window.

Sly moved quickly around the throne, which swiveled ever so slowly around until it was now facing the two men as they fought just in front of the massive window.

Belyeau was still on the floor, on his knees, when Sly threw a devastating hit with his Cane, striking Belyeau across the cheek, followed immediately after by another hit from the opposite direction, and then a quick upper cut that caught him by the chin. Then, once again, another straight-forward hit that struck Belyeau in his already-broken nose.

Belyeau tumbled backward and collapsed to the floor. Sly slowly straightened up and watched as his opponent struggled to get back to all fours.

Belyeau could barely get one foot flat on the floor, with his other foot still behind him with his left knee on the floor. Both hands were still flat on the cold stone on each side of his right foot. With a cross between a gasp and a sputter, he coughed out a clump of blood, which splashed to the floor with a thick plop. He wheezed heavily for a few long seconds before he finally managed to lift his head up.

What he saw drove all thoughts of the pain from his mind instantly, replacing it with pure fear and terror.

Sly stood directly in front of him, his fists clenched as tightly as possible around the stem of his Cane. One foot was up off the floor, his knee bent at a 90-degree angle and the rest of his body turned sideways, like a professional ball player readying a powerful pitch. His Cane was raised high above his head like a baseball bat, the golden hook vibrating strangely. The shaking was, at first, rather subtle and almost undetectable. However, as the seconds passed, the vibrations grew clearly larger as the entire Cane, and Sly's body, began shaking from the force. Then, suddenly, a small orange ball appeared directly under the tip of the hook, electricity sparking in and out of it as it grew larger. And, more than anything else, Belyeau was blown away by the look on Sly's face. He was beyond anger. He was now in a fit of pure, undying rage, bent on nothing more than destruction of his rival, almost like a primal instinct. Unstoppable instinct.

Belyeau's eyes widened.

The ball of electricity grew larger, now just as large as the Cane's entire hook. The vibration shook the Cane, Sly's body, and even reverberated through the floor. He could even hear the buzzing sound emitting from the Cane.

"…No…"

Sly's grip tightened.

"…NO…"

The Cane was raised even higher, preparing to swing down and sideways at the same time, delivering an even more powerful blow.

It was in that moment that, more than anything else, Belyeau wanted nothing more than to live. He wanted nothing more than mercy.

"NO!"

Sly's response was to finally swing the powerful weapon. Like a bolt of lighting, it struck. The moment of impact caused the ball of electricity to discharge, jolting through Belyeau's body. The discharge combined with the impact of the Cane itself instantly lifted Belyeau's body off the floor entirely. But even as he flew up and backwards, his hands were thrown out in front of him, fingers outstretched. In a split second, just as fast as the impact hit Belyeau, his fingers almost instinctively latched onto something that swung right into his right hand, his fingers quickly clenching and maintaining as firm a grip as he could.

Before Sly knew it, his feet were yanked off the floor as well as Belyeau grabbed onto the hook of his Cane, pulling him right up with him as he flew backwards, right into the massive window.

As he flew through the air, the dark, dull floor being the only thing in his line of sight, Sly heard the powerful and dooming sound of the glass smashing instantly, followed by the tinkling of the pieces falling out of place, a few landing inside the room, with most tumbling down over the edge below.

Thinking faster than he was flying, Sly stuck both his legs out and lifted his head up, quickly swinging the Cane around in his fists so that the bottom end was facing him now instead of the hooked end, in order to put Belyeau opposite the Cane from him. In raising his head as high as he could, he saw the massive metal rod in the framework of the window that was directly in front of him, fast approaching. He closed his eyes.

His head slammed up against the still undamaged part of the window, the metal rod directly in the middle of his forehead. His outstretched and spread-out legs similarly caught the unbroken parts of the window that were outside the area smashed by Belyeau. With his head and legs keeping him still inside the window, he put all of his strength and effort into his two hands as they clutched the stem of his Cane. He finally willed himself to open his eyes and crane his head down while still keeping it pressed against the window, looking down for the first time.

He saw Belyeau, hanging entirely out the window with one hand clutching the hook of his Cane. His body blew ever so slightly as the wind whipped at him, the rain drops pattering hard against his body and against the Cane. His head was turned away, looking down at the massive fall just below him to the roof of the castle below. The shower of glass shards was falling further and further away, their tinkling sounds vanishing, the lights reflecting off of them vanishing.

A bolt of lightning flashed. A clap of thunder, shaking the entire castle, sounded.

Belyeau then finally lifted his head up to look at Sly. Despite his massive build, despite his tough fight, and despite all his nobility and dignity from earlier, the look on his face was the most terrified, most helpless, and most desperate that Sly had ever seen. His eyes wide, his teeth clenched, and his breathing quick and labored, Sly saw nothing but a pathetic being who wanted, right now, nothing more than the chance to survive.

Belyeau, finally looking directly into Sly's eyes again, realized now the situation he was in, and the fact that the very man he had just tried – and failed – to kill was now the only thing keeping him from dying.

Belyeau quickly spun around and swung his other hand up to grab the hook as well, both hands now gripping the Cane and tightening.

Both men now had both hands on the Cane, and neither one was determined to let go. Neither, however, was determined to save the other in any way whatsoever.

The rain continued to whip into both of their faces, mostly blowing down Belyeau's forehead, as he was facing towards the tower away from the wind, while the drops flew right into Sly's face.

Both men were locked in each other's eyes, refusing to blink and refusing to betray any emotion other than hatred, even in this moment where both were on the precipice of death.

Another bolt of lighting, followed by another clap of thunder.

The long stare and silence was eventually broken by a single smacking sound. Then another. Then another. Another. They both soon realized that it was a very slow clap. But only Sly was able to turn his head around enough to look in the direction it was coming from.

Dr. M was sitting back in his throne, his hand and claw raised in front of him, the claw smacking into the palm of his good hand several times before he slowly lowered them to the armrests once again.

"Very good, Cooper. Very good, indeed. You have truly, fairly, and decisively defeated my greatest warrior."

Belyeau's eyes were wide, and although his mouth was open, no sound came out. Whether or not it was due to the sudden roll of thunder, they weren't sure.

"What are you going to do, Cooper? Actually pull him back up?" Dr. M taunted. "You can't. He's far too heavy for you. And besides, if you were to pull him back up, you might as well be handing him the final victory in this battle. Oh, but if you let go, you will lose your most valuable possession…your Cane."

Even as the words confirmed his fear, Sly was already well aware of the terrible situation he was in. Dr. M was right; pull Belyeau back up, and possibly lose to him in a rematch. Let him fall, and he would have to sacrifice his family heirloom, not to mention his greatest weapon. And it was clear that Belyeau was not going to let go.

Sly looked back down at the massive raccoon hanging from his own Cane. His stunned eyes looked back at Sly, now filled with a pleading look, as if he actually thought that Sly would take pity on him and spare him.

"Make your choice very soon, Cooper. Indecisiveness will prove fatal here. If you don't lose your grip, the window will lose its strength, and you'll have nothing left to hold onto to prevent yourself from falling."

As Dr. M said this, as if on schedule, Sly heard a long, strained crack in the glass around him. He also heard the brief groan of one of the metal rods in the framework of the window straining under the weight.

"I'll admit, it would be most anti-climactic for you to fall off with him…but quite poetic, no?"

The stem of his Cane slipped just a little bit further, even through the iron grip he maintained on it.

Everything that could possibly happen to throw off his concentration and determination was happening at once. Dr. M was taunting him. The wind was whipping him. The rain was pounding on him. The Cane was slipping gradually. Belyeau's eyes were locked on him.

It was chaos of the highest possible level.

Sly closed his eyes as he struggled with all his physical might to hold onto the Cane, and with all his mental might to come up with a solution…and fast. He just wanted a moment of silence, a moment to think clearly. He tried to push out all of the elements, the feelings, the noises, clear his mind…

In the next moment, it was not clear to any of the three men what happened. Dr. M couldn't see clearly due to Sly blocking his view. Belyeau, at that moment, had been glancing down below him in fear. And Sly's eyes were closed as he tried to think. Even Sly himself wasn't sure of what happened, and he was the one holding the Cane. Whether he deliberately let go as M insisted, or if he simply lost his grip due to the weight or due to the rain slipping between his gloves and the stem of his Cane, he would never know. Dr. M would never know. And Belyeau certainly would never know.

It took a few more seconds for Sly to realize that the weight had left his hands, as if a massive burden had been lifted off his shoulders when he didn't want it to. He slowly opened his eyes, only to see that Belyeau had already let go of the Cane, as both he and the object were falling. His eyes and mouth were wide open, yet no sound came out once again. Another clap of thunder silenced any sound he might have made, and a flash of lightning seared across his body, briefly turning his whole form as white as his terrified eyes.

Even as Sly finally leaned back away from the dangerous precipice, pulling himself out of the whipping wind and lashing rain, he still couldn't help but watch as the mountainous man and precious object plummeted down along the tower, towards the cold, hard, stone roof of the castle below. Even as he was so far away that his whole body was merely a small, black dot, the moment of impact made Sly cringe at the thought of what was happening down there. Such a powerful fall – both figuratively and literally – seemed like such a quick, silent, and insignificant event.

Even after he hit the roof, Sly still stared out after him for a few more seconds before finally leaning back, all the way inside the room, glancing up at the ceiling and sighing heavily – both out of relief and stress. He closed his eyes again.


	9. Execution

Execution

_Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean; Friday, July 4__th__, 2008, 7:27 A.M.…_

Time had become all but nonexistent for the crew and passengers of the aircraft carrier _USS Ronald Reagan_. The trip had been long and demanding, the occupants all fully aware that this was a trip with no clear destination in sight. No destination…only an objective.

There were several significant leads every now and then, but never an indication that the machine was nearby. They knew that they were taking a great risk. A risk that quite literally had the two most vastly opposite ends any possible risk could offer: They succeeded, and the world would be saved from the terror that had been ravaging it relentlessly for 6 months. They failed…and certain death would envelop all of them, and the machine would continue rampaging across the free world unopposed.

It was a very solemn trip indeed. Often very quiet. No conversations. No music. Just pondering among themselves. Other than the necessary commands and communications between the captain and the crew, there was nothing.

Thus, it took a few moments for the knock on his cabin door to register, snapping the President of the United States out of his trance. He slowly stood up and strode over to the door, opening it slowly.

The sailor stood at attention and rendered the salute, but the exhausted Bush waved it away with an "As you were."

"Sir, the captain requests your presence in the bridge immediately, sir."

"Alright, alright."

Pulling on his heavy jacket, Bush followed the sailor down the hall, turning corners and ascending stairs until, finally, they had arrived in the bridge, where the familiar figure of the captain was waiting.

"Yes, Captain Norton?" Bush asked after the usual salute.

"Sir. It's upon us."

The seriousness with which the four words were conveyed, coupled with the almost dead gaze in the captain's eyes, were enough to instantly snap the President back into the present, with the long-dreaded and long-awaited feeling of this news finally being correct after several false alarms.

"You're quite certain?"

"Please follow me, sir."

Captain Norton then walked out of the bridge onto the balcony just outside, the President and the sailor who escorted him following close behind.

The Captain gestured to a telescope that was perched on the ledge, aiming directly behind and to the right of the carrier, pointing almost directly to the north.

"Please be careful not to adjust it, or you just might lose sight of it."

The President knelt down ever so slightly and peered through the telescope.

After a moment of adjusting his eyes, he could just barely see it. The small dot hovering high up in the air at a significant distance behind them, but undoubtedly pursuing them. After a few more seconds of focusing, he could clearly make out the two large, horrifying yellow eyes. It was a sight that he was fairly familiar with, through the various blurry photographs and video stills taken by survivors or witnesses, but in this moment, seeing the monstrosity in person…was a completely different experience altogether. Knowing that it was there, physically, approaching, and knowing…that it was coming straight for him.

With a solemn stare, he slowly straightened up behind the telescope.

"They've found us." He muttered.

"And with the best of timing." The captain added. "The equator is approximately 7 ½ nautical miles away at this speed."

_It seems to be working…all the pieces fitting into place._ He thought. _God, please let it work._

"Sir?" The captain asked from behind. "Your orders?"

After another long, dreadful pause, he slowly turned to face the captain.

"Tell the pilots to get to their aircraft."

…

"Proceed at full speed." The Colonel ordered.

"Yes, sir." The two other technicians responded simultaneously.

"Colonel, I must remind you that we are taking an awful risk." Johansen added. "We may have finally managed to track them, but it is just as I feared; they are nearing the equator. It's approximately 10 miles away from our current position, and they have the lead. If we do manage to get within range, it will be very, very close…"

"But attempting to cut them off in a straight south-then-eastern direction will take even longer. Isn't that what you just said?" Carr replied.

"Yes, sir, but…"

"NO BUTS!" Carr suddenly cut off. "We MUST destroy them. Just tell me that you can get us in range before they cross the equator."

"I believe so…and even then, if they _do_ cross the equator…we still have a chance to get within range and fire on them before _we_ cross it."

"Good. Then do it." Carr ordered once more. "I shall retreat to my quarters once more. Call me back in here if there is an update worthy of my attention."

"Yes, sir." Johansen replied, ending the conversation.

As Carr left the control room and headed towards his newly-designated quarters, a wry smile spread across his face. True, they were taking a very dire risk indeed. But it was a risk well worth taking. Not only would they destroy the last remaining, organized leaders of the free world, but he would finally start to prove himself to the Commander and the Master. He had to prove that he was a worthy commanding officer. After all, he was the only one left aboard the entire Death Ray.

Perhaps there was a reason for that?

…

Although the 10 pilots had been well-trained to handle almost any kind of aerial situation imaginable, they had never been quite prepared for something like this. Nevertheless, they continued with their suiting-up and final preparations of their respective aircraft, heading out as if this was just another routine training exercise, driven by determination, revenge, and patriotism.

The core members of the presidential cabinet had gathered in the carrier's war room, surrounded by transparent readouts with glowing lines across them, as well as numerous monitors and technicians already rapidly communicating with each and every single one of the pilots.

They sat around the large, single table – administration chiefs in regular business attire next to highly-decorated officers. Vice President Cheney, Secretary Gates, Secretary Rice, Advisor Rove, and others.

The various commands and announcements were made as, one-by-one, the 10 jets all took off from the runway, circling around the aircraft until all were airborne. They then formed into a triangular formation with five at the very back, then three more ahead of them, and then two more at the head of the horizontal pyramid.

"All fighters, report in." The radio operator instructed.

"Atlantis, standing by."

"Bigfoot, standing by."

"Drummer, standing by."

"Geronimo, standing by."

"Operator, standing by."

"Rawhide, standing by."

"Skywalker, standing by."

"Two-Face, standing by."

"Wisconsin, standing by."

"Zebra, standing by."

Once all 10 pilots had reported in in alphabetical order with their codenames, their commander took over the radio frequency and began issuing commands.

"Now remember, your first priority is to defend The Giver."

"Copy that, sir." Several pilots replied.

"Stay clear of their gunners. Maintain an altitude that is equal or above its head and shoulders. They have already sacrificed most of their own fighters in the Battle of Paris, so an offensive opposition is all but out of the question. But nevertheless, remain as cautious as possible."

Several more pilots responded in the affirmative, and their commander resumed.

"Geronimo and Wisconsin, take charge."

"Yes, sir."

The 10 jets approached the massive machine, the distance decreasing and the size of the monstrosity increasing with every second.

…

"Sir, we've got company!" One of the technicians reported.

Johansen quickly strode over to the radar screen, where a triangular shape of 10 moving dots all began converging on their position.

"They're trying to attack us…with only 10 fighter jets!" The technician exclaimed.

"Yes, I can see that." Johansen replied.

It seemed almost too easy. Too good to be true. Only 10 jets? They would be destroyed easily. He could give the next command without Carr's consent, as he would more than likely be bothered with a request to give such an obvious command.

Johansen himself leaned over the PA controls and cleared his throat before activating it.

"Attention, all personnel. This is Lead Technician Arnold Johansen. I want all available gunners to their stations immediately. Repeat: All gunners to battle stations, immediately. We have 10 aircraft approaching from the southeast."

As he stepped back from the microphone, one of his subordinates leaned back from his chair to give the next update.

"ETA to target, 7 minutes."

…

"Remember, boys! Stay out of range of their gunner stations!"

As they drew even closer, within several hundred feet, it was now towering above them.

"My God, it's massive!" Zebra exclaimed.

"This is it!" Two-Face shouted.

No sooner than they began moving straight up towards the top of the machine did the dozens of machine guns in the vicinity, already armed and in firing position, began opening fire.

"Watch it, their range on those things is greater than we thought!" Geronimo shouted.

"I'm hit! AH!"

Then, before anything else could be said either by or to the Zebra pilot, his aircraft instantly exploded, debris flying in all directions and scattering the rear-right portion of their formation.

"Spread out!" Geronimo ordered. "Two groups, two groups! Wisconsin, take your side and I'll take mine!"

And with that, the group quickly split off into two halves. Geronimo led Skywalker, Bigfoot, Operator, and Rawhide, while Wisconsin led Drummer, Two-Face, and Atlantis.

The two groups split apart and continued moving at a much steeper upward angle, still avoiding most of the gunfire.

"I'm gonna try to retaliate!" Geronimo declared.

He then took brief aim while he was still at a slanted angle, with some of the machine guns of the left leg still in his line of sight.

He quickly deployed two missiles.

"Box 1, Box 2, away!"

The two missiles, deployed within seconds of each other, struck the leg in a nicely-timed pattern. The second one struck about three levels higher than the first, and both struck the immediate vicinity of two occupied gunner stations. The blasts were enough to knock both gunners out of their seats, and several others immediately above and immediately below the impact zones instinctively dove for cover.

"Nice shots there, Geronimo!"

"Thanks, Operator!"

But just then, the brief emergency alarm went off in one of the cockpits.

"I've got a missile locked onto me!"

At the last moment, Two-Face's aircraft veered to the left, distancing himself from Wisconsin, Drummer, and Atlantis, moments before the missile struck and destroyed the jet in a fiery explosion.

"Alright, hang on!"

And with that, Atlantis took brief aim with her gun and began unloading the rounds onto the nearest missile stations. Once again, the impact of hundreds of rounds on top of each other jarred several of the operators from their seats.

"We're nearing the shoulders, hang tight! We'll regroup behind the head!" Geronimo ordered.

…

"Sir, they're moving out of range of the gunner stations." One technician reported again.

"Confound it!"

After hearing Johansen's announcement ordering the gunners to their stations, Carr had returned to the control room to monitor the situation himself. Not so much out of concern, necessarily, but for his own amusement.

"Just as I suspected." He muttered. "Time to send out our last remaining aircraft."

"But sir, we've only had time for minimal training for the new interim pilots…" Johansen started.

"I. Don't. CARE!" Carr shot back. "The sooner we destroy them, the better. Besides, at the rate we're taking them down – with two already gone – this should be easy enough to qualify as practice for the crews."

And before Johansen could say anything else, Carr leaned over the PA system.

"Attention, all personnel! This is Colonel Carr! All interim blimp crews, report to your respective aircraft immediately. Once all seven crews are in place, prepare for immediate takeoff to counter this threat."

Carr just knew that the decision to train the new pilots would pay off someday. Although seven aircraft was still smaller than the enemy group, and, of course, less than a fraction of the previous army, it would have to do.

…

Geronimo and his four followers had reached the highest hangar on the left shoulder, and were now moving around behind it. In the distance, quickly approaching the back of the head just as they were, were Wisconsin, Atlantis, and Drummer.

"Alright, regroup!" Geronimo ordered. "Wisconsin, fall in behind-."

A sudden series of rapid beeping on the radar silenced him, drawing the attention of all 8 remaining pilots.

"Sir, we've got 7 new bogeys!" Skywalker declared. "Coming in at 4 'o clock!"

"I've got a visual!" Wisconsin announced. He and the two other pilots behind him, facing the direction of the left shoulder, could already see the enemies approaching in an arrow shape. Three aircraft all diagonally aligned on each side, with a single aircraft at the head of the arrow. The two blimps at the very back of the formation were heavily armored, while the other five were covered in a regular tan canvas covering.

"Watch it, boys!" Geronimo called out. "They're behind us! Circle around, circle around!"

Geronimo, Skywalker, Bigfoot, and Operator all quickly began doing a sharp 180-turn. However, before Rawhide could even react, a missile was fired from one of the blimps and struck his aircraft, destroying it in a ball of fire.

"Return fire!"

Geronimo, Skywalker, Wisconsin, and Atlantis were the first to comply almost immediately, unleashing thousands of rounds and several more missiles on the approaching triangle. One of Geronimo's missiles easily found its target and destroyed one of the blimps, while Operator's rapid-fire took out one of the two armored blimps. The remaining five quickly scattered, flying off in all directions and evading the rest of the attacks.

"New group! Wisconsin, Atlantis, and Operator, divert and attempt to deliver The Giver! Everyone else, with me on offense!"

"Roger that, Geronimo."

Just then, one of the blimps circled around and appeared quite suddenly from above the head of the Death Ray, unleashing another devastating round of machine-gun fire.

"He's on me! 9 'o cl-."

But Operator's attempted warning was cut off by the following explosion. No sooner did the flames begin to dissipate before the blimp that shot down Operator soared straight through the cloud, locking onto another jet.

"Geronimo, watch out! He's on you!" Atlantis exclaimed.

Geronimo looked around frantically, unable to get a visual confirmation on the blimp even though it clearly showed up on his radar.

"Argh! I can't see him!"

"Hang on, I'll be right there!" She responded.

Atlantis closed in on the blimp that was following Geronimo in a steady line. Though Geronimo was zig-zagging back and forth, the blimp remained firmly on his tail.

Atlantis steadied the target lock system, waiting for a decent shot…

The blimp began unleashing another round of machine gun fire.

Atlantis's system locked onto the blimp's heat signal, and Atlantis quickly pressed the button.

The missile deployed and soared straight at its target, catching it from behind and destroying it instantly.

Geronimo sighed. "Thanks, Atlantis."

…

In the control room of the Death Ray, Carr and Johansen were looming behind the technician who was acting as the radio operator, listening in eager anticipation.

"Copy that, Avenger 3, we've just lost Avenger 5."

"Roger." Avenger 1 responded. "Avengers 3 and 4, come with me. Go for the one that Avenger 5 was targeting. Avenger 7, fall back and maintain a general altitude with the spire. That's where several of the others are heading."

"Yes, sir." The pilot of Avenger 7 – the last remaining armored blimp – replied.

As the orders flew back and forth between the blimps, Carr turned to the other seated technician.

"ETA to target?" The Colonel asked.

"Five minutes, sir." He replied.

…

"I've got one in my sights!" Bigfoot shouted, attempting to lock onto the armored blimp as it rose higher and higher, towards the top of the massive spire. He flew over the head of the Death Ray from behind, closing in on his target.

"Watch it, Big, you've got one on your tail!"

"Huh?" Panicking, Bigfoot veered to the right.

Skywalker soared in from the right, preparing to take aim with his guns at the regular blimp that was pursuing Bigfoot.

"Just hang in there, two more seconds…"

"Skywalker, watch out!"

But before Skywalker could even react to Wisconsin's warning, the shots rang out, and the rounds tore through the cockpit, the engine, and one of the wings.

Skywalker screamed in horror as, even in the midst of being shot, he tried to maintain some form of control. In his panic, he veered off to the right, diverging away from the blimp he had been pursuing, heading straight for another aircraft.

"Bigfoot! PULL UP!" Wisconsin shouted.

"WHA-DAWUGH!"

And then, to the complete horror of the other four pilots, Skywalker's damaged jet crashed head-on into Bigfoot's jet as it was veering to the right in an attempt to escape. Both jets exploded and disappeared in one large, collective fireball.

"Alright, survivors regroup!" Geronimo demanded. "Rendezvous at the top of the spire!"

…

"Roger that, two more of the enemy aircraft have just been destroyed." Avenger 1 proudly declared. "Avengers 3 and 4, take up a flanking position just ahead of me. Avenger 7, fall in directly behind me."

"Roger that."

…

"Alright. We've got one final shot at this. Wisconsin and Drummer, you two close in on the spire to deliver The Giver. Atlantis, come with me. We'll try to distract those fighters long enough for the delivery to be executed."

"Copy that." Wisconsin replied.

"Let's get these bastards." Atlantis coldly declared.

With that, the two designated offensive aircraft split off and circled around the area, watching as the four remaining blimps regrouped, beginning to fly up towards the top of the spire.

"Alright, move in!"

The two jets, side-by-side, soared straight towards the group of blimps, with Geronimo opening fire with the machine gun while Atlantis deployed another missile. Though most of Geronimo's shots went wide, the missile was locked on and destroyed the final remaining armored blimp.

"Avenger 7 is down!" Avenger 3 reported.

"Avenger 3, circle back and get them off my tail! Avenger 4, stay where you are!"

One of the two blimps from the front row peeled off from the formation and quickly began to circle around.

"Watch it, here comes another!" Geronimo warned.

"I'll get him!"

The blimp began opening fire with one of the machine guns. Atlantis turned her aircraft slightly enough to the left so that she too was aiming directly at the enemy, and she squeezed the trigger.

Both aircraft fired their rounds directly at each other, and what happened next was nearly one-in-a-million.

At first, the sight of the explosion had Geronimo shouting another congratulations to Atlantis. But his response was cut off when he realized that it was not one, but _two_ explosions.

Both the enemy blimp and Atlantis's aircraft had exploded at the same time.

"NO!" Geronimo shouted.

…

"ETA to target?" Carr asked the technician once more.

"Three minutes and 17 seconds, sir." He reported.

"And how far to the equator?"

"About 2 more miles, sir. They're about to cross it, but we might be able to catch them in time."

…

Geronimo turned his attention back to the two remaining blimps.

"Geronimo, hurry up! They're closing in and firing!" Drummer shouted frantically.

Sure enough, both blimps were now firing, each one aiming for a different jet.

Geronimo quickly regained his composure and began firing once more with the machine gun, trying to steady his aircraft.

But it was already too late.

"Augh! I'm hit!" Drummer reported as several shots tore through the right wing of his jet. "…But not too bad, at the moment…"

"Just stay with me, Drummer. We're almost there!" Wisconsin started.

The two jets were now nearly level with the sphere at the very top of the spire, leveling out as their target drew nearer.

But several more rounds of enemy fire connected with the injured aircraft.

"AH! I'm taking more damage!" He cried. "I don't think I can hold on much longer…"

The pilot in Wisconsin turned to his right and stared for a few moments, seeing for himself the damage that Drummer had sustained.

"Alright, Drummer. Get out of here. Save yourself."

"But sir!"

"I said GO!" Wisconsin shouted. "That's an order!"

"I'm sorry…"

After another burst of machine gun fire, Drummer, quickly dropped his altitude while, at the same time, veering to the right and quickly fleeing the action.

"One of them is dropping, shall I break off and pursue him?" Avenger 4 asked.

"No. He's injured. Stay on the survivor." Avenger 1 replied.

"Very well, sir."

The two blimps remained hot on the path of Wisconsin, who continued zig-zagging back and forth.

"Geronimo, I need a little help!"

"On it!"

Geronimo leveled out and fired again. This time, the shots finally connected.

The pilot of Avenger 1 cringed and veered to the left, briefly losing his pursuit of Wisconsin as the Avenger 4 blimp burst into flames. Several pieces of debris flew by his own blimp, scraping the sides of it before completely dissipating.

"Avenger 4 is down, repeat, Avenger 4 is down!"

"Do you think you can take the last two?" The radio operator asked from the control room.

"No, sir. I can handle this."

The final blimp quickly regained his path and was now steadily following the Wisconsin aircraft, attempting to lock on with one more missile.

"Just hold still, you American scum…"

"I've got you now!" Geronimo shouted, and squeezed the trigger a final time.

Nothing.

"Huh?"

He released the trigger, then squeezed it again.

Still nothing.

"WHAT?! NO!"

"What is it, Geronimo?" Wisconsin asked nervously.

"I'm all empty! And I've got no more missiles left!"

And with that, Avenger 1 began firing. The shots flew around Wisconsin's aircraft, and he continued veering wildly in a futile attempt to evade the gunfire.

"AH!"

Geronimo stared helplessly at the blimp firing upon his only remaining comrade.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment as an idea popped into his head. He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.

And then, he veered off to the side.

"Wisconsin, circle around! Come towards me!"

"How can you cover me if you've got nothing left?"

"Just do it!"

"Alright!"

Wisconsin then began turning to the left, circling around several dozen feet above the spire's sphere. Soon, both of the jets were converging in their own semi-circle paths, heading towards each other.

"Geronimo…?"

"I'm gonna clear the way for you. But once I've done that, you've got to plant The Giver yourself!"

Wisconsin then soared straight under Geronimo's aircraft, the final blimp directly on his tail. Geronimo closed in, ducking down suddenly and flying straight into the blimp's path.

Wisconsin, turning his head, saw what the remaining pilot was doing.

"GERONIMO, WAIT!"

"Just plant The Giver, Mr. Presi-"

And then Geronimo's aircraft slammed head-on into the oncoming blimp, annihilating both in one final, fantastic explosion.

Wisconsin slowly turned his head around, wanting to exhale in relief at the destruction of the final enemy aircraft, but at the same time pause for the realization of his comrade's noble sacrifice.

But instead, he ignored both and chose to listen to Geronimo's final words.

With that, he reduced his speed and lowered his altitude, circling back around towards the sphere.

Once he was level with the top of the sphere, he began typing in the code for the specially-modified deployment device on the underside of the jet.

Then, after a pause, the device dropped down out from underneath the jet and landed on top of the sphere, planting itself firmly against the foreign metal. Almost immediately, it began sending its signal throughout the entire radius of the sphere it was now attached to.

And with that, the pilot of Wisconsin, one George Walker Bush, veered sharply away from the Death Ray and began flying straight back towards the aircraft carrier ahead of it, already able to make out the limping aircraft belonging to Drummer as it was already returning.

…

"The two surviving aircraft are fleeing." The technician reported, noticeable confusion in his voice.

"Never mind it." Carr replied sharply. "After all, we're only…"

"Sixty seconds and closing to the target." The technician replied, already used to the daily update that was now expected of him.

"One minute away. They can run, but they can't hide."

Sweating profusely, the other technician wiped his brow and peered in closer to the readout.

"The equator is now approximately 3 miles away."

Had the four men not been thoroughly distracted with the battle, or the significance of reaching their newest – and most significant yet – target, one of them might have noticed the discrepancy between this report and the previous distance report.

But none of them noticed.

…

"The device is planted!" Bush reported, though there wasn't exactly excitement in his voice.

"They're still closing in." The captain replied from the bridge of the carrier. Even in his voice, the clear nervousness that all onboard were feeling was clearly audible.

"We've passed the equator now, sir." One of the bridge operators reported to the captain.

…

Bush's aircraft caught up with the crippled Drummer jet, and was now flying alongside him at a steady pace.

"Let's hope this works, sir." The pilot replied very nervously.

"It's got to work." Bush assured half-heartedly.

He closed his eyes.

_Please, Lord…please…_

…

"Come on, we've got to reach them…" Carr muttered nervously.

"30 seconds. 29."

"A mile and a half now before we reach the equator, sir!"

"25. 24. 23."

…

"Is there no way we can check the status of that thing's coordinates?" The captain asked frantically.

"It'll take a few more seconds to register the location of the radar disruptor, sir…"

…

"19. 18."

…

"It's getting closer, sir! I don't think I can stay airborne much longer…"

"Just hang in there, Drummer!" Bush reassured. "We can't land safely on the carrier until that thing is destroyed!"

…

"10 seconds and closing!"

"We're almost there, sir." Johansen said as he turned to his superior. "We've almost got them."

"Good. They can't escape us now."

"5 seconds!"

…

"They're closing in, captain!"

"On us?"

"Us AND the equator!"

…

"They're closing in, sir!"

…

"_The target is in range!_"

Carr turned to Johansen with a devious half-grin.

"Fire at will, Johansen."

Johansen returned a nod and an equally satisfied smile. "With pleasure, sir."

"Maintaining current speed." Another technician reported. "We are closing in with one mile to the equator."

Johansen pressed the first white square button, which lit up red.

He then pressed the yellow round button, which turned from yellow to green.

One by one, he turned the various dials, flipped the two levers, and then began typing in the necessary codes.

Then the glass case slid open, revealing the large red button.

Grinning, Johansen typed in the final, 3-digit code: 6-6-6.

The button lit up.

"This is it, sir." Johansen reported, clear satisfaction and relief in his voice.

"Ah. If I may." Carr stepped in.

Without even waiting for a response from the technician, the German Shepherd quickly stepped forward and cut Johansen off. He stood before the massive red button, and raised a single hand with pure delight.

And then, suddenly, there was a powerful jerking motion that shook the entire machine from the bottom all the way to the top. All four men in the control room – along with every other man aboard the Death Ray – were thrown violently to the floor. One of the two technicians slammed his head against the control panel first, denting in a panel of buttons and sending up a brief flurry of sparks. The other technician flew straight at the ground at such a devastating angle that he didn't even feel his own neck break.

The sudden disruption was enough to activate the automatic alarm. The deep sound resonated loudly throughout the entire machine. But nearly half of the personnel onboard were not even conscious – or barely conscious enough – to hear it.

"AH! WHAT THE DEVIL WAS THAT?!" Carr screamed at the top of his lungs right before he groaned in pain.

Johansen tried to sit up, glancing over at the control panel and one large screen in particular. The screen was flashing between red and white, with the words on it in black print.

The five words that it displayed were the horrifying words that he hoped to never see in his lifetime.

**FATAL ERROR**

**MAGNETIC POLARITY REVERSED**

Several more explosions rocked the entire Death Ray from far below, as both of the two main engines quickly gave out, their lives ended by a series of rapid explosions.

"JOHANSEN!"

On another screen, another devastating message lit up.

**RED ALERT**

**LASER FIRE SEQUENCE INTERRUPTED**

"WHAT IS HAPPENING?!"

"I don't know how, sir…but our polarity-."

Another powerful shift, which sent Johansen slamming up against the control panel.

"AUGH! OUR POLARITY IS REVERSED! WE'VE CROSSED THE EQUATOR!"

And then the Death Ray's final stand was over. Both engines completely gave out, and the machine began its magnetically-enhanced drop. The sudden shift in gravity was so powerful that every single individual flew straight up to the ceiling, wherever they were. Some merely slammed flat up against it, while others flew at it at such angles that there were immediate sickening – and sometimes fatal – cracks of bone. Especially for those who were located in higher areas, such as the hangars. Both Carr and Johansen, as well as the two motionless bodies of the other two technicians, all flew up to the ceiling of the control room. There were several more cracks from all four bodies, and only one of them retained consciousness.

Carr's previous mixed emotions – from nervousness to satisfaction, from satisfaction to greed, from greed to shock – were now thoroughly taken over by an undying fear. Nothing else but pure fear.

With a touch of pain.

And it was with these two emotions that he screamed in sheer terror as the Death Ray soared straight down, straight towards the surface of the Earth, straight towards the ocean below. All other inanimate objects, such as the chairs, had joined him and the three unconscious technicians on the ceiling. And all the while, the control panel was now flashing a variety of colors wildly, the alarm still blaring, and the two very grave messages continuing to be broadcast on the massive screens.

All throughout the machine, there was a similar scene in every room where at least one occupant was still conscious – or alive. Everything was now on the ceiling, and the only sounds were the blaring of the alarm and the screaming of the survivors…who would soon be joining their late comrades.

…

"MY GOD! IT'S GOING DOWN!" The pilot of Drummer announced.

Bush turned around in the direction of the machine. Sure enough, it was now falling. No, not just falling. It was _flying_ straight down. The sheer weight of the massive machine – now fully exposed to the laws of gravity and physics – was merely the beginning of its speed. The reversed magnetic polarity was pulling it down towards the Earth at an even faster rate than regular gravity could ever hope to achieve.

"Then we've done it!" Bush declared proudly. "And not a moment to spare!"

…

"SUCCESS!" The radio operator shouted. "It's going down!"

Almost immediately, there was a sudden burst of applause, cheers, and whistles as the officers, the Cabinet members, and everyone else on the carrier – all packed into the war room – began celebrating their victory…a little too soon.

"Not yet!" Captain Norton interrupted through a megaphone to silence the cheers. "Now we must brace for impact! Everyone DOWN!"

…

"Sir, will the carrier manage to survive the wave?" Drummer asked nervously.

"The captain seems to think so." Bush replied, though not with complete confidence in his voice.

…

The Death Ray continued plummeting straight down. The screams of pure terror continued, with most of the survivors completely unable to tell where they were – and how much longer, or shorter, they had until they finally hit the ocean.

But all this was answered the final impact. Although the massive machine mostly punched straight through the water, the impact on the surface was more than enough to give another great violent jolt throughout the entire Death Ray, resulting in hundreds more cracking of bones, ending of lives, and silencing of screams.

Then, in less than two seconds from the impact, the Death Ray was already completely submerged as it continued its descent straight down into the dark depths of the Atlantic Ocean. Though very few men aboard were still alive, the rapid descent would surely finish them off with the rapid decompression, which would shatter a vast majority of the glass onboard and allow the seawater to come flooding in from all directions, and then the final, fatal, finishing impact as the Death Ray slammed into the ocean floor, finishing off the last few resilient pieces of glass, bending and twisting the metal into a misshapen heap, thoroughly destroying all of the remaining weapons and machinery, and driving the entire Death Ray deeper into the sand at the bottom of the world.

…

Everyone aboard the carrier braced for impact as the tidal wave from the Death Ray's impact through the ocean's surface barreled towards them. It never seemed to tower above the flight deck, but it was still of a rather intimidating size. Nevertheless, it struck the carrier from behind and to the left, quickly tilting the bow downwards and causing the entire carrier to shift to a slanted angle. Everyone grabbed onto the nearest solid object, from the edges of tables and control panels to door frames and pipes, as the carrier was slanted for several seconds. It then straightened out as it briefly rode the top of the wave, sending everything back into position. Then it tilted backwards with the bow now facing up, and everything slanted in the opposite direction as the wave passed by underneath it. Then, once the wave was completely gone, it settled back down on the ocean's surface, bobbing like a cork for a little while longer before settling back down.

Once they realized it was over, they all got back to their feet and began cheering once more. Now, even the captain was joining in on the celebrations.

Just then, a voice came back over the radio, briefly pulling one of the operators away from the celebration.

"Base, this is Wisconsin. Drummer is hit and needs an immediate landing!"

"Copy that, Wisconsin. We'll get the landing crews back into position immediately!"

...

In a matter of minutes, the crew was there to receive the limping aircraft as it landed on the deck and slid to a stop. The crippled jet was towed off to the side to make way for the one other survivor. Once the Wisconsin jet had landed, no sooner did the cockpit open up than the entire crew, as well as the cabinet members and other administration staff, were all rushing the aircraft with cheers and whistles as the President of the United States climbed down out of his aircraft.

He was instantly swarmed by his closest friends, comrades, advisors, supporters, subordinates, and fellow Americans. Numerous hands were patting him on the back and grabbing his shoulders as he shook hands and laughed in relief. Then, finally, the pilot with the codename Drummer managed to navigate the crowd up to the President.

Bush immediately turned to the survivor.

"Mr. President..." He started to salute.

"As you were, soldier. What's your name?"

"First Lieutenant Ezekiel Miller, sir."

"Well then, Lieutenant Miller...today is your big day. And now, due to your actions..."

Bush paused briefly and looked back out at the crowd before resuming.

"...and as the _sole_ survivor of the attack squad."

Despite the briefest of pauses between this sentence and the next, the implications already quickly set in.

"...You are now a hero not only of America...but of the entire free world."

Putting an arm around Miller's shoulder, Bush turned to the crowd. "And now, because of Lieutenant Miller's actions today...this 4th of July...the day we would celebrate our independence and liberty as Americans, is now no longer an American holiday...but now it is a day of freedom and celebration for the entire free world as we know it!"

Yet another burst of applause, cheers, whistles, and other celebratory gestures. Only now, they were equally directed at Lieutenant Miller as well as his Commander-in-Chief.


	10. Finale: Part I - Beginning of The End

Finale: Part I – Beginning of The End

**Author's Note: Be warned, this is the chapter that features the scene of torture mentioned in the Author's Note at the beginning of this story.**

_Clap. Clap. Clap. Clap._

Sly's brief reprieve was interrupted by the slow, sarcastic clapping in the background. He slowly opened his eyes, his vision blurry and fading in and out as the wind blew in through the broken window. There was a slight ringing in his ears, and his own breathing was initially the loudest thing he could hear.

As his vision slowly returned, he could narrowly see, out of the corner of his eye, the figure of Dr. M slowly standing up out of the throne as he continued clapping. Only now did Sly detect the slight awkwardness of the clapping – it did not sound like a full clap, of two hands against each other, but rather, a hard object slapping against one palm.

_Clap. Clap._

"Well done, boy. Well done indeed. You have taken down my Achilles."

He then slowly removed the cloak, tossing the black garment behind him onto the throne and revealing the all-too familiar outfit of the white lab shirt and blue pants.

"Now it's time for you to face Zeus."

Despite – or probably because of – his pain, Sly groaned.

"Now now, I know what you're thinking…"

Sly groaned again, attempting to prop his elbows behind him to lift his torso up ever so slightly, but even this elicited great pain.

"…I'm an old cripple. I use a cane. How can I possibly fight you?"

"The thought…ER…" He winced again. "…had occurred to me."

"Well, truth be told, I anticipated your defeat of Belyeau. But all my calculations pointed to you not winning easily. I knew he would easily weaken you just enough for me. Him also costing you your Cane was an added bonus that even I had not foreseen."

Sly realized the implication of that last statement, struggling through the physical and mental pain to try to recollect the last time he had ever embarked on a mission of any kind without his Cane.

Back at the Krak-Karov Volcano. 1990. 18 years ago.

He tried also to remember the last time he ever fought without his Cane.

Never.

"And another truth be told…I don't expect this to be much of a fight. I didn't want this to be much of a fight. I made that mistake last time, and I gave you too much of a chance. That slight room for miscalculation resulted in my downfall. That shall not happen again, I assure you."

Sly now had his elbows thoroughly behind him, and his torso raised up above the floor at roughly a 45-degree angle. He managed to turn his head to the right enough to look up at his captor.

The sight of Dr. M holding his cane up high above his head, clenched in both his mechanical claw and his one good hand, horrified him more than the revelation that he could stand perfectly well shocked him.

"I don't want this to be a fight. I just want this to be some good old-fashioned torture."

Sly's eyes widened, and then closed as he attempted to roll to the left, towards the window. But it was already too late.

The cane swung down and struck Sly across the torso, slamming down against his flesh and striking several ribs at once. The pain shot through Sly with great intensity, and he winced and groaned again. His surroundings began pulsating wildly as his vision faded in and out with the pain.

Then, before anything else could happen, Sly felt a single powerful hand grab the back of his neck, grabbing up both a portion of his shirt and the fur on the back of his neck, yanking him partially up off the floor and holding his face up to Dr. M's gnarly face.

"This, my boy…is just the beginning."

Then, with surprising strength even with two perfectly healthy legs, Dr. M threw Sly with one hand, sending his entire body flying over the staircase and slamming against the metal floor, rolling several feet before coming to a stop on his side, looking up the stairs as the short but imposing figure came down them slowly, clutching the cane between the metal pincers.

"In my spare time since our last encounter, I've been training myself in close hand-to-hand combat, and also mastered several martial arts to perfection. Nothing is left to chance. You are alone and hopelessly incapacitated. Your greatest weapon is gone. I know dragging things out like this usually inevitably leads to a downfall, but here that simply isn't the case."

And then he was standing over Sly once again, kneeling down with the claw and cane resting on one knee as he reached down and cradled Sly's head with his one good hand.

"You and your father and your gang and your father's gang has caused me so much more misery than you could possibly imagine. I managed to get my full vengeance on your old man, but that didn't stop my thirst for revenge. It was only fitting to bring down an equal amount of pain onto you. The problem was that Clockwerk was programmed to kill your father in the most efficient way possible, so he died quickly. And so, to make up for that mistake, you shall not have the same luxury."

And then, with the clawed hand, he swung the cane rapidly across Sly's face, striking him in the left cheek and dragging it across his face as it knocked his head to the side. No cracks, but definitely a firm and loud SMACK.

"ARGH!"

Dr. M then quickly brought his good hand up to the top of Sly's head, firmly taking his hat and hair in a tight fist and slamming his head back down onto the cold, hard stone floor. Sly's hat came off and flopped down, upside-down, onto the floor about a foot away from Sly's head.

Dr. M stood up.

"And this will last as long as I can possibly make it. So this shall continue until your heart stops beating or your head stops being attached…whichever comes first."

He then took the cane in both hands and, once again, swung it down like a golf club against Sly's face, knocking his entire body over once more so that he was now lying on his stomach, blood dropping from his broken nose and a knocked-out tooth in his mouth.

Dr. M then brought the cane straight down, slamming it across Sly's back and drawing a single crack from his spine.

"Ah. Not broken. Not yet."

Two more quick swings against the spine, and Sly screamed in pain.

"Oh, foolish me, what am I doing? I need to save the spine for last."

He then swung the cane down against the back of Sly's right leg, slamming down against the femur and producing another crack.

"Ah. Now THAT…that is definitely broken."

He then slammed his own foot down onto the broken bone, eliciting a few more cracks and more screams from Sly.

"Hold on, now…there's plenty of pain to go around."

Even in this moment, Sly attempted to pull both knees closer to his body in order to prop himself up, placing his hands feebly on the floor and pushing himself up off the stone.

"Oh, no you don't."

Dr. M then swung the cane down golf club-style once more, slamming Sly in the right side of his ribcage and knocking him sideways once more, closer to the center of the chamber, and so he was now lying sideways on the floor. He quickly punctuated this with another swift slam downward onto his left arm, cracking his elbow.

"Just keep breathing, just keep breathing…just keep playing."

Another swift slam once more onto the right side of Sly's ribcage. This time, he was sure that at least one of his ribs was now broken.

"Oh, this truly is just as fun as I imagined it."

Dr. M then grabbed Sly by the back of the neck once more, swung around and threw his body forward, slamming him against the lower steps. He slumped down and rolled down the steps back onto the flat floor.

…

Bentley had long since stopped planting the bombs, having finally found a safe location to stop his sneaking and stare, in mute horror, at the entire scene that was taking place in the portion of his bino-cu-com screen. During the fight between Sly and Belyeau, Bentley still had several more locations that he had to go to and plant bombs on, knowing that at least it was a fairly even match-up and Sly managed to hold his own. Only when Sly sent Belyeau flying through the window did Bentley stop what he was doing and find a safe place shielding him from the guards in the cave – behind and underneath a rock formation halfway down the tunnel that he was currently moving up through – to stop and watch. By that point, he had only two explosives left. Only now he was completely mesmerized by the sheer terror of what was happening now between Sly and Dr. M.

And the fact that he was completely unable to even attempt to contact Sly was frustrating and terrifying enough.

More than enough time had passed, though, and he realized that he was running out of time. Only now he found himself conflicted between trying to get to Sly or possibly trying to plant the final bomb in one more crucial location.

He glanced down at one of the final bombs, resting in his lap, and then up the tunnel. He was continuing down this tunnel in the hopes that it would ultimately lead back to the outside, due to its consistent upward slope.

With a desperate sigh of fear, but determination at the same time, Bentley steeled up his courage and began moving further into the tunnel.

…

Sly slowly lifted his head up, just for the cane to swing down and clip his chin, knocking his head to the side with an incredible burst of pain as he felt like his chin was dislocated.

"Tell me…what hurts more? Forehand?"

He then swung the cane down with his palm facing outward, striking Sly's stomach.

"Or maybe backhand? I think the answer is backhand."

Then, with the back of his hand facing outward, he struck even harder against Sly's back, cracking yet another rib.

"I'm sure there are at least a dozen fractures in your body at this point now, Cooper. But the fun is just beginning."

Sly's head was still facing his left, staring at the staircase leading up away from him towards the throne and the shattered window, where a few drops of rain whipped in at such speed that he could feel the drops on his face.

"Hey, look at me."

Dr. M then used the cane, rather than striking, to gently tilt Sly's head back up towards him as he knelt down.

"Observe."

Dr. M then clamped the metal prongs of his fake arm around the golden, ball-pointed tip of his cane, the diamond embedded in the center of it shining between the metal prongs.

He then twisted the top around about a quarter, then slowly began to pull.

The diamond-studded handle of the cane suddenly began lifting straight off, revealing a long, shiny, silver blade that had been contained inside the cane like a sheath. Once the sword was removed fully from the cane, Dr. M let the hollow wooden cane slowly topple over, clattering to the ground next to Sly.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Dr. M boasted as he slowly slid the fingers of his good hand into the handle. "And, not to mention, extraordinarily deadly."

He slowly knelt closer to Sly, using his metal prongs to grab Sly by the back of the head and lift his head up.

"It is far more painful when you watch."

He then directed Sly's head so that he was staring down the length of his battered body, where the tip of the sword was now raised and tilted down so that it was aiming directly at Sly's stomach, just above his navel.

Sly could only watch in futile agony and fury as the tip of the blade slowly drove into his stomach, the slightest of sounds emerging as the blade sliced into his flesh with the sound of wet sloshes.

He started groaning, trying to contain it by keeping his mouth shut, even as the pain intensified as the blade went in further and further.

"Something so deadly being used in such a minimal manner is all the more painful. Like a slight jolt of electricity in comparison to an electric chair." Dr. M narrated.

Sly then gritted his teeth, trying his hardest not to scream, wanting to remain defiant to the bitter end. He would not give Dr. M the satisfaction.

"And just when you thought it couldn't hurt any worse…"

Dr. M then began twisting the blade around, ever so slowly, in a clockwise motion, and that finally did it. Sly let out a quick, but loud scream of pain and terror, which was cut off for a second by another jolt, and then he continued the scream for a few more seconds.

When the scream died down, Dr. M sighed and slowly lowered Sly's head back down to the stone floor, gracefully sliding the metal prongs out from behind Sly's skull.

"For that matter, the sword isn't the only deadly weapon I have…on hand."

Dr. M then raised the prongs high above Sly's head, displaying the sharp tips that each bore, and letting the light of the torches on the wall gleam off them for a moment before he brought them down.

Sly let out another blood-curling scream as he could feel the sharp prongs slowly dig into his left cheek, just below his eye. He could feel the cold steel against his flesh, and the rising of a warm liquid around them, staining his fur and dripping down the side of his face.

"My face may be much more hideously disfigured thanks to what you did…but that still doesn't mean I won't try to repay the favor."

Dr. M then began slowly pulling the two prongs down Sly's cheek, dragging them through the flesh and fur and creating two perfectly parallel lines of blood down his face. Sly couldn't see it with his own eyes, but he could already picture what the newly-formed scars must look like.

Dr. M continued dragging the prongs down until they finally reached the bottom of his cheek, pulling off his face with a few small clumps of flesh stuck around the tips of the prongs.

"Ah, yes…quite gruesome."

Dr. M then brushed the prongs against Sly's shirt, scraping the bits of leftover onto Sly's torso with blood still dripping from the tips down onto his blue shirt. The few newly-formed red drops paled in comparison to the larger, darker stain that grew at the source of the wound caused by Dr. M's sword.

Dr. M then glanced down at Sly's hands, still contained within the familiar blue and yellow gloves. Dr. M slowly transferred the sword to his fake hand, clutching the handle between the two prongs as he gingerly took a hold of Sly's left hand and held it up.

"You know, they say that if you give a man a fish, he'll eat for a day…teach a man to fish, and he'll eat for a lifetime. I do believe that is supposed to serve as a metaphor for the ability of all mankind to do their own work rather than take from someone else."

Dr. M then slowly took hold of the tip of Sly's fingers, clenching the glove within his own fingers and slowly pulling, removing the glove gently and tossing it aside.

"You've been using these hands, your entire life, to take fish from other men rather than fish for yourself. Yet, ironically, you are still doing your own work by taking from others. A very strange paradox indeed, isn't it?"

Dr. M slowly and tenderly held Sly's fingers in his own, lifting up each one and inspecting them with his good eye.

"The hands that have done so much over the years…the hands that have attempted to ruin my plans three times before…Looks like your third time wasn't a charm for once."

He then did another quick transfer, putting the sword back in his good hand and clamping the metal prongs down onto Sly's left wrist, bringing his hand down to the cold stone floor, where it slightly wallowed in the gradually-increasing pool of blood from Sly's stomach wound, dripping down his side and onto the floor.

Dr. M carefully aligned the blade up with the base of Sly's left middle finger.

In that last moment, Sly knew exactly what was about to happen, and attempted to look away. But even averting his eyes couldn't prepare him.

In the quickest and slightest of movements, the sword came down at a slanted angle, like a knife chopping vegetables on a cutting table. And the finger came off just as easily.

Sly screamed yet another long, loud, blood-curling scream as he could feel the blood ooze out of his newest wound.

Dr. M inhaled and exhaled slowly, as if soaking up his rival's pain in order to enjoy every last second of it.

"Yes…now you know only a fraction of the pain I went through. You're losing only a few small pieces…"

Dr. M slid the blade under the back of Sly's head and used it to tilt his face up towards him.

"Look at me. I lost half of my body. You have nothing to complain about."

Dr. M then grabbed Sly's right hand, yanking it across his body and not even bothering to remove his second glove, simply bringing the sword down upon Sly's right ring finger. Sly's scream intensified, and his whole body writhed in pain as he made the weakest of attempts to roll away from Dr. M. He eventually found himself on his right side, facing sideways towards the elevator door. He gazed at it in sheer hopelessness, his one avenue of escape just barely out of reach. So close, and yet so far away.

Dr. M held up the severed finger and fragment of glove that surrounded it, yanking the stained piece of cloth off and looking at the bare finger.

"Oh. Shame. There is no ring here. And after all this time, after all that you did for your little cop girlfriend, after your vows to avenge her, you don't even have your wedding ring on anymore.

Sly heard this and was filled with a whole new level of rage, only to find himself nearly unable to express it as he lay on his side, face against the cold floor as the blood from his two scars dripped down sideways over his face.

Dr. M then used the metal prongs, pressed rather firmly and slightly painfully into Sly's stomach, to turn his opponent back towards him, so that Sly was lying on his back once more.

"What do you have to say to that, Sly Cooper? Do you not care for your poor, dead former wife at all?"

Sly slowly let his eyes fall once more, staring down the length of his bloodied torso for a few long moments.

Then he glanced back up at Dr. M's smug face as he leaned in closer.

With most of the strength he had left, he gathered up just enough saliva to throw a spit into Dr. M's good eye.

Dr. M grunted and dropped Sly's head, standing straight up and furiously wiping away at his eye with the back of his good hand.

Gathering up the last bit of strength he had left, Sly turned his entire body over once more so that he now lay on his stomach. When he lifted his head up, he found himself looking directly at the dropped bag that contained his possessions. Clenching his bloodied fists together, Sly began frantically dragging himself across the floor towards the bag.

Dr. M finally cleared his remaining eye and stared at his opponent, furiously crawling across the floor towards his bag of possessions.

"I don't think so!" Dr. M declared as he began storming towards Sly.

Sly was soon upon the bag and grabbed it with both hands. He yanked it towards him, with the top opening up and spilling out all of the items. As he expected, the earpiece communicator was the first thing to tumble out due to being placed in last.

Snatching it up in his left hand, Sly fumbled to put it back in his ear before pressing it again.

"BENTLEY!" He screamed with a gasp as Dr. M grabbed him by the ankles and pulled him away from the bag. "THE TOWER! BLOW THE TOWER!"

…

"_BENTLEY! THE TOWER! BLOW THE TOWER!"_

Bentley was so startled by the voice blasting over his earpiece that he nearly screamed. But once he realized who it was, he quickly responded by pressing his own communicator.

"Sly?! SLY! What's happening?!" Bentley furiously began to pull up his bino-cu-com to see what his friend was seeing.

"_Don't!"_ The voice shot back. _"Don't bother with me! Blow the tower NOW! Destroy it from the base, within the castle! Do it!"_

Bentley watched on his monitor, in mute horror, as Sly's POV changed from being facedown against the stone floor to being flipped up again, facing directly towards the horrifying, towering image of Dr. M as he raised the sword above his head, preparing to bring it down.

The view of Sly's perspective jerked to one side as the blade came down, striking just beside his head and cracking straight through the stone about a centimeter.

"_DESTROY. THE. TOWER!_"

Dr. M then knelt down, plunging his hand down towards Sly's left ear.

"_DO IT, BENT…O IT!"_

The voice was already being muffled as Dr. M's hand retracted, the device obviously clenched in his palm.

Bentley could then only watch as Dr. M slammed his fist back down against the floor right next to Sly. Bentley could only faintly see a single piece of gray debris fall from Dr. M's clenched fist as the audio signal went dead.

Dr. M slowly opened his fist again, and the remains of the communicator fell to the floor.

He began saying something to Sly, but once again, Bentley could only see and not hear, through Sly's artificial lenses. With a gulp, he retracted the bino-cu-com and continued on through the tunnel, now moving faster than ever.

…

Sly grunted again as he finally let his head fall back against the floor.

"You made a very bad choice there, Sly Cooper." Dr. M growled as he straightened up.

And then, without hesitation, he thrust the blade straight downward, plunging it through Sly's left arm and pinning it to the floor.

Sly let out another scream, although this one was slightly shorter due to the familiarity of the pain.

"Reopening old wounds is not something you should do." Dr. M hissed. "It only makes everything worse. Now stay there like a good boy."

He then spun around and began striding swiftly back towards the staircase, approaching his throne.

Sly wondered as to how he was still alive, but only for a brief moment. Seizing the opportunity once again, he glanced down at the blade stuck in his arm. As he stared at it for a few seconds, he could see the previous encounter flash before his eyes for a terrifying moment, reminded of the first time he felt this exact pain, at the hands of another, similarly demented, foe.

Sly shook it off, steeled up his courage, and then reached over with his right hand and wrapped his fist around the blade just above his arm.

He glanced over briefly at Dr. M, who was just arriving at the base of the staircase.

Sly yanked the blade out as quickly as possible, using all of his personal strength to withhold his scream.

Carefully laying the blade down silently next to him, he rolled over once more and once again began crawling towards the spilled bag of contraband.

Dr. M took the steps two at a time and arrived at his throne. He leaned over the right armrest and slammed his fist down onto a red button. Almost immediately, an alarm began blaring throughout every facility on and in the island. Only in this tower chamber was it more of a distant backdrop.

After sounding the alarm, Dr. M held down the intercom button.

"Attention, all personnel. I want all personnel on alert immediately. We have an intruder in our midst. All personnel on alert, fully-armed, and begin conducting the appropriate inspections of every facility. Perform each inspection again in succession until the intruder is found. That is all."

Dr. M then turned around again to face his crippled and bleeding enemy…

…only to see that Sly was, once again, rifling through the bag of his confiscated possessions.

His eye widened for a moment, and then Dr. M gritted his teeth and growled.

Sly had just found it just as he heard a battle cry emit from behind him. Sly turned and saw Dr. M leap off the platform, flying over the stairs and landing in a roll on the ground, landing perfectly on his feet and dashing towards Sly.

Sly withdrew the item he had pulled from the bag and threw it to the ground, igniting the smoke bomb.

Dr. M slid to a halt, his metallic arm raised as the only weapon that he had, and stopped just at the edge of the smoke cloud. It was already dark and thick, quickly obscuring his foe. He backed up a few steps, took a quick, deep breath, and then slowly entered the smoke.

His head was consistently moving from side to side, scanning the area for the slightest sign of Sly, who surely could not have gone far.

Then he saw the slightest gleam out of the corner of his eye, below him. He could barely react as the blade was thrust straight into his left foot, just above the toes.

Dr. M screamed briefly and stumbled backwards, away from the enemy and collapsing onto his back at the edge of the smoke cloud. Grumbling and groaning, he reached down and yanked the sword out of his foot, quickly wielding it in his good hand as he struggled back to his feet.

Now wielding the sword with his good hand and the metal prongs with the other arm, he held both metal weapons at each side, spread out and ready to strike in any direction.

This time, Dr. M could hear the slightest rustling to his right.

With all his might, he spun about 45 degrees and swung the sword quickly through the air horizontally, swishing through the smoke in the hopes of striking his opponent. Immediately after the first strike yielded no results, Dr. M spun the sword around and thrust it straight down, pinning it into the ground. Moving in a bit closer, Dr. M could see that he had successfully thrust the bloody tip of the blade through the cloth of the bag, where several more items were spilled out.

Lifting the sword up and spinning it back around into an upright position, Dr. M backed up slowly. The smoke started to dissipate.

But there was another popping sound, followed by a quick hiss, right behind him.

Dr. M roared and spun around, swiping the sword horizontally through the air three times. But even now he could see another thick plume of smoke arising and spreading out. He inhaled some, having made the mistake of roaring in fury, and started coughing. He waved it away from the area immediately around his face with his clawed hand, and attempted to stifle his coughs, as they easily gave away his position.

Then, ever so faintly, Dr. M could hear the slight sound of a hollow wooden object being dragged across the floor – the slightest vocalization as the movement reverberated through the hollow interior – before it was lifted off the floor completely.

His cane-turned-sheath.

Dr. M assumed a defensive stance, sword held horizontally in front of him in a position that was ready to both block and attack at a moment's notice.

…

Bentley was just arriving at the massive metal doors at the end of the tunnel, about 5 minutes after the alarm sounded, followed by the announcement by Dr. M, when he heard rapid marching behind him. As if he was visible, he ducked behind the nearest large rock and watched two squads rush up the tunnel towards the door.

"Split off into two groups, comb the entire facility from the outside, work your way inside, standard two-by-two formation!" The leader of one squad shouted.

"Sir, yes, sir!" The squad shouted back.

And then the massive metal doors began to slowly open. Seizing this perfect opportunity, courtesy of Dr. M himself, Bentley moved at a fair pace so that he was still quiet, while still keeping up with the guards to make it through the door in time.

No sooner did he pass through the doors than he was completely blown away by what he saw before him, as the guards split off into two groups and moved in opposite directions through the massive chamber.

The natural rock walls of the cave that had been in the tunnel just before him changed suddenly into dark metal walls, with both the metal and the rivets that lined them being of the same dark complexion as the volcanic rocks. There were several metal catwalks, lined with railings and dotted by metal staircases, all built around several large containers. It was all too reminiscent of the factory back in the Krak-Karov Volcano three years prior.

However, Bentley noted right away, the content of these containers was far more terrifying, and far more deadly.

Missiles. All lined up neatly, perfectly, facing upright and towering above him and the various guards throughout the room.

Bentley had had plenty of up-close, personal, and extremely dangerous encounters with all kinds of weaponry in the past, even long before this ORNWOR mess started. But only once before, during one of their more infamous, nearly-failed heists in Tehran, had Bentley ever laid eyes on these particular kinds of missiles, with the same structure, markings, and delicate, secure, and specific arrangement.

Nuclear.

Almost immediately, a new plan had edged its way into Bentley's mind as soon as he made the connection. An invisible hand slowly fell to the explosive resting in his lap.

He had two left. One was obviously to be used on the castle tower as soon as possible. But he knew that he would have only one opportunity to do this, and he simply could not afford to go destroy the tower and then come back. He had managed to get inside this particular area due to dumb luck in the first place. No, not just the circumstances under which he had infiltrated this very significant chamber, but the fact that this chamber existed. All the other explosives that he had placed, even if he had placed triple the amount that he had already done, would pale in comparison to the damage that could be done by planting one explosive in this particular chamber.

He glanced over at the nearest guard, crouching as he inspected the base of one of the missile containers, then slowly craning his head up to look up the length of the missile itself.

He would have to be extraordinarily cautious, quiet, and particular with the planting of this explosive.

He slowly advanced towards the nearest staircase.

…

Dr. M could only hear the rush of air behind him, and could only turn around halfway before the wooden cane struck him a surprisingly powerful blow across the chin, knocking his head right back in the direction he had already been facing. With a grunt, he staggered and collapsed to his knees.

Before he could even raise the sword, he felt the same object strike him across the backs of his shoulder blades, with such force that he actually felt and heard a crack.

He dropped to all fours, stunned not only at the pain, but at the sheer force by which his heavily-injured opponent was able to strike him with.

He could then hear a gasp, followed by a brief sputter that was most likely blood or drool, as his opponent coughed out a taunt behind him.

"You…you thought you could break me completely, did you?"

This time, Dr. M was ready. He threw himself to the right and rolled out of the way just as he could feel the rush of the cane, swinging down through the air where he had just been, and striking against the stone floor with a hollow knock combined with a crack as the wood was damaged.

Dr. M rolled around and jumped to his feet, sword at the ready.

"I didn't merely think it possible, boy. I just did it, courtesy of the late Robert Belyeau and, well, I'd normally say my own two hands, but of course…"

Dr. M then swung wildly through the smoke with the two metal prongs, clacking them together after the swing in a taunting, menacing manner.

"…so courtesy of my bare hand, I _have_ successfully broken you. You are broken physically more so than you have ever been in your entire life, and through the loss of your wife, your fat friend, and your other former gang members but one, you truly are a broken man. I have destroyed everything you have single-handedly."

He twirled the sword around and swung it through the air horizontally, then swung it straight up so that he could bring it back down in a vertical swipe in the direction where he last heard the voice.

"For once, and last, in your life, I will…" A cough. "…actually agree with you."

Dr. M's eyebrow rose in brief shock at this concession.

"You have indeed broken me. That is why I have asked my friend to destroy the tower as soon as possible. If I still had Carmelita to go home to, I wouldn't ask him to do that."

Dr. M closed his eye for a brief moment, focusing his senses on his sense of hearing, trying to determine which direction the voice was coming from.

"But you've made a very fatal mistake in deciding to keep me alive, just so that you could break every last bit of me, take away everything and everyone that I care about…"

Dr. M opened his eye and thrust his sword forward, only hitting thin air.

Just then, there was another crack and hiss. More smoke began emanating from the left, and Dr. M swung his sword in that direction furiously, even as the plume rose and clouded his vision greatly. He started coughing again.

"…you see, when a person has someone or something left that they value with their life, you still have a potential bargaining chip. Carmelita, Penelope, Murray…had they been kept alive, God forbid, as your prisoners…you could've had me in a chokehold."

Dr. M felt something run through his head at that moment. It was a terrible fleeting notion, one that he angrily tried to exorcise as quickly as possible. But it lingered as heavily as the smoke around him.

"…it's like eliminating all the pieces systematically in a game of Chess. There are plenty of valuable, but dangerous, pieces…the Rook…the Bishop…the Knight…the Queen. Threats, indeed."

Another cough and sputter.

"But when you eliminate these one at a time, you may be removing great threats from the game…but you also drive the King to do things it normally wouldn't…since it has less and less to lose."

_I…I'm not hearing this_. Dr. M thought angrily.

"Similarly, when you eliminate more and more of what I care about, I have less and less to lose…I am driven to actions that you couldn't comprehend…actions that I normally wouldn't undertake."

Dr. M repeated the previous thought, only this time, aloud.

"Oh, yes you are." Sly responded with the slightest hint of that familiar, infamous arrogance.

Dr. M roared again, swinging his sword wildly in all directions, creating a series of slight swirls in the smoke around him, like bugs, as he searched aimlessly for his target.

The voice in the fog grew louder as it challenged him further.

"Actions like self-sacrifice. That's definitely something you couldn't calculate, is it? IS IT?"

"RARGH!"

Unleashing his fury and banishing his cool, collected persona, Dr. M took aim in the general direction of the voice and threw his sword like a spear. The smoke swirled like a vortex immediately where the sword was, and Dr. M charged through the smoke after it. Just before he broke through the smoke veil, he could hear the impact.

…

Bentley jumped up, ever so cautiously, step by step, up the final metal staircase. With each step, he had to turn back nervously and watch the nearest guard to make sure they couldn't hear the slightest of metal banging as his chair jumped up and landed down on the metal steps.

When he finally reached the top of the staircase, Bentley glanced up towards the light, hoping sincerely that it would lead him where he wanted it.

With a final, brief burst of speed just to get away from the immensely dangerous chamber behind and below him, he rushed through the doorway and, like a transition in a slideshow, he moved from the dark, cold, heavy atmosphere of the nuclear missile storage room into the bright, elaborate, elegant beauty of the castle.

_Thank the Lord._

Even here, in the luxury of the castle, the alarm continued blaring, creating for an unorganized, confused setting. Bentley looked around briefly, scanning the environment and trying to match it visually with the interior of the castle as he had seen through Sly's lenses, he eventually pieced it together and turned sharply to the left, moving further, invisibly through the fortress as only a few guards ran past.

He turned another corner, ran through another open doorway, and before he knew it, he was in the grand rotunda. There was the massive fountain, with the statue centerpiece. And just beyond it, there was the base of the tower, and the elevator doors situated right in the center.

Only this time, the guards that had previously been stationed there were absent.

With the alarm blaring overhead, Bentley smiled as he slowly reached into the container on the back of the wheelchair, and slowly withdrew the final explosive.

He wheeled around the fountain, just as two more guards dashed across the rotunda, from one chamber to the next. Arriving at the elevator door, Bentley set down the explosive and withdrew two of his regular bombs. Planting the devices at the top and the bottom of the elevator doors, he quickly wheeled around the side of the tower base just before they went off.

No sooner did the twin blasts reside did Bentley rush back around to begin planting the main bomb. He glanced up the length of the tower, as it rose straight through the castle roof, and calculated the exact time and motion that was needed.

Planting the bomb on the back wall of the elevator, Bentley set it for 15 seconds, and then flipped the lever into the upright position. With no time to waste, Bentley jumped out the gaping doorway just as the car began to move up out of sight.

Checking for the umpteenth time to make sure the cloaking device was still working, Bentley barely managed to wheel around to the side of the tower base before four guards rushed to the scene.

"Roger that, explosions at the base of the tower. Elevator door is gone, and the car has just ascended. Repeat, explosions at tower base, elevator rising with unknown occupant. Override the elevator. NOW." The leader reported frantically over a radio.

Bentley gulped, then instantly regretted it.

"I heard something!" One of them shouted.

Bentley didn't even dare to breathe as three of them rounded the base of the tower, staring directly at him and completely unaware of it. But their stares were not what concerned him. What concerned him were their firearms, also unknowingly aimed directly at him.

…

Dr. M broke free of the smoke and quickly reoriented himself to get a good view of where his sword had landed.

He could see, just in front of the broken window and the whipping wind and rain, his throne was now newly damaged as his sword was lodged directly through the back of it.

Straightening up, he dashed towards the staircase, taking it three steps at a time, and leaned over the throne to pull his sword back out.

After he withdrew the blade, he took note of some new blood that was dripping off the tip of it…off the portion that had pierced clean through, just on the other side of it.

But as soon as the realization hit him, the wounded Sly emerged from behind the throne and swung the wooden cane-sheath at him, dealing another powerful blow across the face, striking him in the damaged area and igniting a burning sensation. Before Dr. M could even recover, Sly spun the cane around weakly and then thrust it forward, jamming it directly into Dr. M's chest and pushing forward with what little strength he had left. With this force, Sly was able to drive Dr. M backward until he started tumbling backwards down the stairs, completely unable to regain his balance or footing. Dr. M struck the first step with the back of his head, then toppled over and struck the next one at his hip first, now turning sideways to roll down the staircase one step at a time, the sword flailing at his side, before he finally landed at the foot of the stairs.

And when he finally came to a stop, he was hit with a whole new wave of pain as he felt a particularly strong piercing sensation in his chest.

Lying sideways, his eye slowly fell to his upper torso, where he could see his own sword protruding from it.

Realizing that he had just been defeated by a terrible accident, a complete rage overtook him with as much power as the pain itself.

It took him a few long seconds to remember the one other individual in the room. Even if he could, Dr. M wanted nothing less than to face his opponent one final time. Even the thought of Sly Cooper's face just increased his rage exponentially.

But nothing could help him escape the raccoon's voice.

"He who lives by the sword…dies by the sword."

…

Sly then let the wooden cane-sheath slip from his fingers and clatter to the floor, before collapsing sideways, stumbling to his left and falling against the right armrest of Dr. M's throne. He clenched his mutilated hands against the new, fresh wound in his stomach, just above and centered from the first wound intentionally caused by Dr. M. After a brief pause, he found one of his elbows holding down the intercom button.

With another cough and gasp, Sly used the last bit of his vocal strength to speak into it.

"Your…your leader has fallen." He muttered into it. His weak voice was significantly amplified all across the island at that moment. "You…have all…failed."

But just then, an earth-shattering explosion rocked the entire tower, dropping Sly to his knees even as he continued to cling to the armrest of the throne for dear life.

The entire tower rumbled, even after the deafening noise died down, and several bricks noticeably shook loose and fell, some from the walls, some plunging down from the ceiling. Sly could literally feel the entire tower start to sway like a flagpole in the wind.

There was another roar of thunder outside, and the wind drastically turned in a different direction, as Sly could now feel the raindrops starting to whip directly in through the window onto the floor just behind him.

The tower rumbled again, even as the initial blast died down, and Sly could start to feel a slight incline forming around him. He couldn't even describe the feeling as the tower began to sway fatally to one side, with the feeling of gravity gradually shifting from directly beneath him to beneath and slightly behind him. Then it rose even more directly behind him. Even though, from his perspective, the tower chamber seemed unchanged, he could feel the shift in velocity as the tower began collapsing straight forward, plunging down towards the castle.

Dreading the moment but finally accepting it, Sly slowly turned his head to the side and looked out the broken window as the ocean rose higher and higher until it disappeared from view, and now all he could see through the window was the island below him…and now the roof of the castle, as the tower continued falling forward.

And even then, Sly continued to cling to the armrest, as if holding onto this throne would save him somehow.

The tower continued falling, now plunging straight towards the roof of the castle. Sly thought, only for the briefest of moments, that he caught a glimpse of Belyeau's body on the roof at the base of the tower…or where the tower had been.

As it drew closer to the castle roof, and objects finally began falling freely around him, Sly closed his eyes.


	11. Finale: Part II - The End of All Things

Finale: Part II – The End of All Things

Even though he had an idea of what to expect, Bentley was still completely blown away when the massive tower finally came smashing through the castle roof. He used the first moment of impact to slip away from the nearby guards unheard, and put some considerable distance between himself and the base of the tower. But now, as it began hitting the ground, he was hugging one of the opposite walls, clinging to a suit of armor from behind as if it would come alive and protect him.

The thousands of bricks came down first like rain, smashing to the floor, damaging objects and tearing across walls, leaving holes in the floor or obliterating themselves upon impact like balls of hail. Dust and fine powder also began filling the air from the smashed pieces. A vast majority of the sources of light, mostly chandeliers, instantly exploded into showers of glass and sparks, with tremendous final bursts of bright light before the entire area began plunging into darkness.

And the tower itself – the long, massive structure tipped by the chamber at the very top – came down through the roof like a foot through soft snow, but only at first. The stem of the tower itself was mostly destroyed on impact, even though it did enough damage to leave a long, gaping hole in the castle's roof, leaving behind a clear footprint before it disintegrated to pieces. One of the larger and stronger pieces of the tower itself managed to fall straight down onto the hideous reversed statue at the center of the fountain, mostly hitting the Minotaur and pulling it off the man that it was standing over. The marble replication of Theseus was also damaged as his waist and right leg were completely torn off, resulting in his severed torso falling backwards into the fountain and creating the first of many large splashes as debris fell into the large body of water.

The tower chamber itself, being larger and denser, mostly survived falling through the castle roof, leaving an even wider hole than the rest of the tower. But even the chamber could not withstand the devastating impact as it finally slammed into the ground. The beautiful, ornate tiled floor was completely obliterated as the cold, ugly, heavy stone of the tower chamber intruded and wiped it out. It started to form a noticeable crater in the castle floor, but even then the chamber's structural integrity began failing as it started to break apart and collapse in on itself with another series of tremendous booms and crashes.

And then, just as quickly as it had happened, it was over. The tower had fully collapsed, leaving a skeleton trail of bricks and conical fragments of conjoined stone bricks in a line from the base all the way to the half-smashed tower chamber, perfectly aligned with the footprint of the exact same shape and size in the roof above it.

The bricks and dust continued falling. A few sparks continued shooting out from damaged electrical light sources. And now the rain was pouring in freely through the new gaping hole that stretched across most of the castle roof, soaking what remained of the tiled floor and the ornate decorations around that general area. Several larger pieces of debris shifted here and there as they were still not perfectly settled on the ground. The water in the disturbed fountain continued rippling wildly, but slowly subsided. Even over against the opposite wall, Bentley could feel several pieces of the ceiling fall down around, and even on top of him.

And just like that, the scene had returned to a strange setting of semi-silence. The castle's PA system had been thoroughly destroyed by the collapse of the roof, and thus the alarm ceased blaring throughout the castle. Only faintly could the blaring be heard in the facilities across the island, and even then they could only be heard because of the new hole in the roof. Now, the most audible noise was the rain pattering down through the roof, the wind that accompanied it, and the occasional burst of thunder, with the lightning being the brightest source of light in the newly-darkened castle as it was plunged into complete chaos.

The guards who had been inspecting the tower base, having been blown off their feet by the impact, crawled to their feet and began shouting orders as they tried to work their way around the destruction. One guard was completely unconscious, and the other was crushed by a larger piece of debris, with one arm and one leg protruding from underneath the stone slab.

And then, quite suddenly, the suit of armor toppled over and smashed to pieces on the floor in front of Bentley.

Panicked and shocked by this sudden incident, Bentley scrambled out from behind its pedestal and began wheeling towards the destruction.

Without even thinking, he screamed at the top of his lungs: "SLY!"

The two guards were across the fountain when he yelled, and they both looked in his direction.

"THERE! THE INTRUDER!"

Bentley gasped and looked straight at the two guards just as they raised their guns.

"YIKES!"

Bentley threw himself sideways, taking cover behind another large slab as there was a burst of bullets in his direction.

Panicked and rapidly babbling to himself, Bentley loaded up his dart gun.

Once the rapid fire ceased, Bentley poked the gun out from behind his hiding place and took quick aim, firing both shots as quickly after each other as he could.

Both darts hit their targets while they were still reloading in crouched positions. There were grunts and gasps as both guards collapsed to the floor.

Withdrawing his gun, Bentley smacked his forehead.

"How could they…see?"

Bentley looked at his own, perfectly visible, gloved hand.

"WHAT?"

Bentley wheeled around to the edge of the fountain and leaned over.

Sure enough, there was his reflection in the water's surface.

"The device…it must have…"

Bentley flipped open the latch on his right armrest that concealed the motherboard of the installed cloaking device.

The emergency red light was flashing, and three small sparks emitted from it.

"Oh, no, no, no…NO! SLY!" He screamed frantically, thoroughly disoriented, panicked, and no longer caring about his own safety at this point. "SLY! WHERE ARE YOU?! SLY!"

Bentley began wheeling faster than ever before towards the collapsed tower chamber.

But even now, during the brief time that he had before he reached the chamber where he was hoping to find his friend, Bentley had a brief moment of logic and sense as he thought about the possibility of more guards converging on the castle now, calculating the likely time to arrival and not daring to think of the number of guards themselves, much less his chances of escaping should they arrive.

Bentley pulled out the radio control device that controlled all 12 of the remaining explosives planted all over the island. One had already been detonated manually for the tower, and Bentley ran the numbers through his mind once more.

_Units 1, 2, 3, and 4…Castle. Units 5, 6, 7, and 8…Aviary. Units 9 and 10…Aquatics. Unit 11…Terrestrial. And unit 12…_

Bentley gulped again, turning the dial and very carefully typing in the numbers on the device's keypad. He even double-checked twice to make sure that he did not include the number 12 in his list.

And then the instructions were set, displayed on the device's screen.

_Single/Multiple/All units? – Multiple_

_How many units? – 7_

_Which units? – 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11_

_Remote/Timed Detonation? – Remote_

_DETONATE? – 1 for Yes/2 for No_

With no hesitation, Bentley pressed the "1" key.

Even now, even this far away, Bentley could faintly hear the booms in the distance, which were most likely the explosions of the Aviary. Although he knew that the underground explosions would not be audible, he could feel the entire earth shaking below him, forcing him to stop his forward movement and cling to the armrests tightly as the shaking island threw his chair around a few inches. Just as he expected, the high payload of the explosives in such contained states as underground caves would not only maximize the power of each blast, but also devastate the structure of the island, which was clearly full of those below-ground caves.

Setting the radio device aside, Bentley grunted briefly. "THAT should keep them preoccupied."

And then he was at the tower chamber. The back half of it was still somewhat intact, but the front half – the half with the massive window, and the half that had fallen through the roof and into the ground first – was completely annihilated. There were numerous large holes throughout the chamber, showing the equally destroyed interior and providing several ways to get inside.

Bentley found the largest hole that would fit both him and his chair, and fumbled his way through it.

The entire chamber, now sideways, seemed more intact from inside. Above him, with the opposite wall now in the air, was the entrance to the elevator shaft, as well as a few other doors leading into other chambers within the tower. There was no light within the chamber, and only the sounds of a few loose pieces of debris clattering out of place.

"SLY! SLY!" Bentley called out repeatedly. He still heard no response, but refused to give up.

"SLY!"

Just then, Bentley heard a sound that was definitely from a living being. It sounded like an attempted scream of response that only came out as a gargle and sputter, followed by a wet sloshing sound.

"SLY?!"

Bentley wheeled over towards the inverted ceiling of the tower chamber, where there was a noticeable pile of stone debris.

Just as Bentley arrived and began pulling away the first piece, two metallic prongs shot out of the wreckage.

Bentley screamed and leapt backward, as the metal prongs began swiping away pieces of debris to reveal the broken, barely-alive figure of Dr. M. His clothes were torn, bloody, and tattered to pieces. Many of the old wounds that dominated the disfigured and burned right side of his body were reopened, and he was soaked in blood. Even the left side of his body, also bloody and damaged, still appeared cleaner than the other side. His prosthetic arm was noticeably bent out of shape at an awkward angle. And there was a clear, and very large, pool of blood in the middle of his chest.

He coughed out some more blood, and slowly looked up at Bentley.

"You…Bentley…should…have known…"

Shaking off his shock, Bentley focused a glare on Dr. M, even as he lay helpless and broken on the ruined floor.

"It's over, Dr. M. It's no use fighting. You've lost. Your island is being destroyed as we speak. And your Death Ray's schematics have been handed over to the United States government for the fullest analysis possible. You won't get away with this. And even if any American attack on the Death Ray fails, you will certainly not live to see it."

"But…" He coughed again, with a deep, rough cough that sounded like he was about to start spitting up his own insides. "But I must live. I. MUST. Live."

"And why is that?"

Dr. M slowly lifted up his one good hand, which was missing several fingers and drenched in blood, and tapped it against the familiar device plugged into his head.

"This…it not only allows me to…to control them manually…but…tele…pathically. Telepathically." He repeated with another gasp of air. "I control…all of them with my mind. A single thought…is all it takes. I am the only person in history…who can command this…army without…speaking a word…without a board of generals…advisors…unquestionable loyalty…courtesy of…this…technology…"

"Then if you die, the army will have no leader." Bentley shot back firmly. Even now, one of his hands slid down to his bomb storage unit.

"WRONG." Dr. M spewed out. "If…I die…it will activate…a sort of psy…psychological…self-destruct feature. With the ceasing of…all my brain activity…they will be turned to…savage mode."

"Savage mode?"

"They shall revert…to instincts. Pure…animalistic…primeval…instincts. They shall know no order…organization…leader…They will only know killing. They will become…wild animals with insatiable…appetites. Still tireless…still fearless…still powerful…but lawless. You…NEED me…NEED me, to control them. If not…they shall be released upon the world…without mercy."

Bentley withdrew the single, small bomb.

"Bentley…" Dr. M muttered. "Please."

Bentley's eyebrows rose.

"…please…be reasonable…be logical…You are like me. You know this already…I have said this already…you are determined, but foolhardy. You cannot destroy them. You know what they are…are capable of. No explosions can destroy them, no collapsing the factories down on them…they will survive…"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention; do you think they can withstand a nuclear explosion?"

Dr. M froze, his eyebrows now raised as well, with nothing but pure shock in his eyes.

"Yes. I found your little arsenal. Strange that you are so confident in your own weapons, yet you still wished to employ conventional weaponry in your war against mankind. Only now, those will serve as your Achilles' Heel. Your failure to trust in your own creations. A true scientist, a true genius, a true innovator…does not put his faith in someone else's work. He relies solely on his own."

"…you…"

"And with one of my last remaining explosives planted down there…only after I managed to successfully arm one of them, of course. It should make all of my previous explosives look like firecrackers. And what do you know? Today _is_ the Fourth of July."

"…YOU…"

"And that's how it will end, Dr. M. For you and your creations. Annihilated in a fiery nuclear blast because you didn't think your mutant army would be enough."

Bentley's thumb moved to the trigger on the bomb.

"YOU…FOOL! THINK OF-OF WHAT YOU'RE DESTROYING! THE GREATEST SCIENTIFIC-." Another gasp of blood. "SCIENTIFIC ADVANCES IN THE HISTORY OF MANK-KIND!"

"Technological advances are meant only for the betterment of mankind, not its destruction."

He raised his thumb.

"You'll NEVER escape! NEVER!" Now, even with clear rage in his eyes, there was still an omnipresent look of fear and pleading in his maniacal eyes, as if his expression alone was subtly begging for his life.

"I'll take my chances."

Bentley then pressed the button and threw the bomb straight at Dr. M. Bentley wheeled back to a safer distance.

"NOOOOOOOO-"

And then, just as the bomb landed inside the pile of debris, right next to the crippled Dr. M, the blast went off. The fiery blast sent more pieces of debris flying in all directions, with even some of the larger pieces being cracked or blown over. And the body in the center of it all was sent flying, his scream cut off abruptly, as he flew up at an angle, slamming into the destroyed wall, then flopping back down to the ground in a thoroughly burned, charred heap. Only his metal prongs still shone brightly and pristinely.

And then, Bentley noted, the tallest and largest stone slab, which had been slanted upright due to being propped up by the other, smaller pieces, was now loose. With that final prodding by the explosion, it toppled over quickly. Before Bentley even knew it, the massive slab had fallen on top of Dr. M's body and completely crushed it, removing it from sight. Only his right arm, with his remaining, ruined hand, protruded from underneath.

A few more chunks of the slab broke off and clattered away as the dust settled. One of Dr. M's remaining fingers twitched once…then twice…then a third time…

Then nothing.

Bentley breathed in and out, rather heavily, for a few seconds before he dared to approach the fallen slab. He ever so cautiously wheeled closer, just in front of the protruding limb.

He slowly, carefully reached down and slowly placed his fingers against Dr. M's wrist.

Nothing.

Bentley dropped the limp hand and wheeled back a bit.

For a few long moments, he just sat there in perfect isolation, the ruins of the tower chamber shielding him from the ruins of the castle, shielding him from the harsh weather and the threat just outside on the island.

But then, just barely, Bentley thought he could hear something.

Bentley slowly turned his head to one side, trying his hardest to block out all other sounds as he listened intently.

Then:

"…ntley…"

Bentley turned completely around, his body now facing the direction he thought he heard the sound.

"…entley!"

Bentley finally lost all self-control.

"SLY!"

Bentley raced back towards the same hole in the wall that he came through, bounded through it, and started wheeling back down the length of the fallen tower.

"Bentley!" He could faintly hear the voice calling.

Bentley looked ahead in the general direction, and what he saw astonished him.

At the edge of the fountain, under the hole in the ceiling and at the mercy of the pounding rain, there was a dark slab from the remains of the tower leaning out of the water. The end that was above water had crushed that barrier, and a majority of the slab was submerged. Just on top of that slab, Bentley could see a single hand, with a very familiar and very tattered blue and yellow glove, weakly waving.

"SLY!" Bentley screamed, with the tears finally beginning to flow down his face. He wheeled over as fast as his chair would allow, rushing right into the area where the rain was pouring down, and leapt up onto the ruined marble barrier of the fountain, finally getting a good look at his friend.

Sly was lying on the slanted slab, just on the surface of the water, both hands weakly holding onto the slab with their fingers slipped into several deep cracks as handholds.

"Sly, hang on! I'm getting you out!"

Bentley reached down to grab one of Sly's arms, only for his friend to quickly reply.

"Wait, NO! OW!"

Bentley released Sly's arm quickly, and then took another good look.

Sly's left leg was pinned to the slab by another large piece of stone, sandwiching his leg between the two slabs and keeping it just under the surface of the water, which was already beginning to plume with a dark red color.

"…don't…" Sly muttered weakly.

Bentley didn't reach down for Sly again, but this time he finally started to get a good look at his friend. He was now starting to see all of the injuries, nearly as devastating and hideous as Dr. M's. Both of Sly's hands were missing fingers, there were numerous wounds all over his body, from his crushed leg to one large wound in his back directly in the middle of his spine, and blood pouring from his nose and mouth. There were two long, deep cuts running vertically down Sly's left cheek, blood trickling from those as well. His was missing his hat, Cane, belt, and one of his gloves. His torn, bloody clothes were barely clinging to his body. His fur was wet and soaked, with blood or water, Bentley couldn't discern from which.

And the rain continued to pour down on both of them, the cold, unforgiving wind whipping at both of them, and the thunder rumbling overhead.

Another flash of lightning.

"Sly…"

"Bentley…did you…?"

"Did I what? Plant the bombs?"

Sly muttered some kind of grunting sound and made one quick, weak nod.

"Yes, yes I did, pal. I've detonated all the bombs planted at those monster-producing facilities. There's only five left."

"Where?"

"At each of this castle's corners…and the last one…Oh, Sly! We have to get out of here!"

"Can…can you…destroy…?"

"That's what I'm saying!"

Bentley leaned in closer, carefully taking one of Sly's hands in his own.

"The last bomb is planted…in a nuclear arsenal, directly underneath this castle. Dozens, Sly, dozens of nuclear missiles all lined up and ready to go! I managed to arm one and plant the explosive next to it. When that blast goes off, it'll set off the nuclear missile, and this whole island will be gone…and everything, everyone, every monster on it! That's why we need to go!"

There was another rumbling around them; whether it was the castle's structure struggling to stay solid, or the whole island trying to do the same, they weren't sure. Several more chunks fell from the ceiling, and the slab that Sly was resting on suddenly slid just a few inches, moving further into the depths of the fountain.

It was now that Bentley realized, not only how deep the fountain was, but also the rate at which the slab would sink into those depths, taking Sly with it.

"Sly, please, we can still get out of here!"

"Is…Dr.…"

"Dr. M is dead, Sly. I know it."

"You…sure…?"

"I found him. He's dead."

Bentley paused, thought about it for a moment, then added: "We killed him."

Sly nodded weakly a few times, then slowly rested his bloody cheek against the cold stone.

For a few long moments, the two friends sat there, surrounded by pure chaos and destruction. Bits of stone continued to fall around them. The rain continued to pour down on them. The wind continued to blow on them. The thunder continued rumbling overhead.

Another flash of lightning, followed by another booming thunderclap.

And then, out of nowhere, Sly said only one simple, short word.

"Go."

It didn't register with Bentley at first. The word was so quick, so short, and its particular meaning in this context simply didn't make sense.

"What?"

"Go." Sly said, slightly louder and firmer.

He emphasized this by slowly lifting his hand out of the crack in the stone and wrapping his remaining fingers around Bentley's hand, leaving a few streaks of blood on the brown leather of his glove.

"Go." He repeated. "Get back…to the boat…leave."

Bentley finally began to understand, but refused to accept.

"Sure. With you. Let's just get you out of here…"

"No." Sly interrupted. "It ends here. Everything."

"You're right." Bentley replied, trying to turn it around in his favor. "It does end here, and you are going to live to see it."

"You will. You will live to see it, and…and the aftermath. Not me."

"But…But Sly…"

"I said this…I said this to Dr. M…not too long ago…This has…has taken everything from me. My family, my wife, most of our friends…So I…I have nothing. Nothing left. Nothing left…to lose. But it has…has also taken all that…and more…from so many others."

"Sly…" Bentley could only repeat that, unable to conjure up anymore words other than that one. He simply couldn't create a response to what his friend was slowly saying, even as a small stream of blood trickled from his mouth with each word.

"All this…because…because of me…and my family…This…has been going on and on for years…This is where it truly must end…for both sides."

Bentley couldn't say anything more at this point. As he continued to grip his friend's hand, he started sniffling. The rain continued pouring down around him and on him, masking his tears.

"Dr. M died here…I die here, too. Fight to the death…both sides pay the price…It's all my fault, and my father's fault…I'm paying for both of our sins. All the suffering…that the world faces now…It's a long way towards…recovering…rebuilding…but it starts here…with my sacrifice."

"But…but…" Bentley was starting to sound more and more like a fool at this point, and even he thought so of himself.

"I've put everyone I've ever known, and cared about, through this monstrosity. Carmelita, Penelope, Murray…"

Another gasp. In addition to the small bit of blood he coughed up, Bentley thought, for a moment, that he saw a tooth fall out as well.

"…Panda King…Dimitri…Guru…All my fault. Mine."

Bentley shook his head.

"No…"

"I'm not…letting anyone else go through it. Even if you're the only one left…you still must not go through the pain, and the torment, and the suffering…"

Bentley then sobbed out loud, gasping as he utterly failed to contain his pure grief and devastation at what Sly was saying.

Another rumbling, like a quick earthquake. Bentley could see and feel the slab slide just a little further. Now both of Sly's legs were submerged in the water of the fountain, and it was just up to his waist.

Bentley gripped Sly's hand tighter for a moment, but at his friend's groan of pain, Bentley quickly relaxed his grip.

"You…have so much…left to live for…Your inventions…your aspirations…things I could never do. In the end…I'd be bound by the guilt…forever tormented by what my bloodline and I have caused. It's…too much…It's…over."

"Sly, you…can't…It can't be…"

"Can you…destroy this island?"

"Yes, yes Sly, yes! I can! I said that!" Bentley shouted, starting to lose control. Just to prove it to Sly, he pulled up the radio device with his other hand and began rapidly typing in a series of numbers. Even this brief action, this demonstration and affirmation of what he was saying, seemed to distract him only marginally from what was happening. When he was done, he held the screen close to Sly's face.

_Single/Multiple/All units? – Multiple_

_How many units? – 5_

_Which units? – 1, 2, 3, 4, 12_

_Remote/Timed Detonation? – Timed_

_Simultaneous/Separate Time? – Separate_

_Time/Unit Input – 1, 2, 3, 4: 10:00_

_ 12: 45:00_

_SET TIMER – 1 for GO/2 for HALT_

"There!" He cried. "You see? Units 1 through 4 are planted at the corners of this castle! Ten minutes should be just enough time for us to get out of this castle, and then, by the time we make it to the boat and activate the hydrofoil, we should have enough time to get out of the blast radius of the nuclear missile. It will be more than enough to completely wipe out everything on this island. Mutants, missiles, guards, laboratories, everything!"

"They're…"

Sly coughed and gasped again, with a deep, throaty cough. Another flash of lightning, followed by a tremendous thunderclap.

"…They're…all set?"

"Yes! I just push the 1 key, and the timers will start!"

Sly slowly lifted his head again and looked at the readout screen for a few long seconds.

Bentley continued to hold his friend's hand, waiting for any sign of Sly giving in to Bentley's pleas.

And then, suddenly, Sly's other hand rose quickly, faster than Bentley expected, and slammed down on the radio device's "1" key.

_TIMERS ACTIVATED_

_10:00_

_45:00_

The red, digital readouts began ticking down for each of the two respective readouts.

_9:59_

_44:59_

_9:58_

_44:58_

Bentley yanked the device back, staring at the moving numbers in horror.

Just then, there was another rumbling, significantly greater than the last two. Bentley was nearly thrown off-balance, struggling to avoid falling into the fountain. But in doing so, he leaned quickly to one side before jerking back to the other, and the radio device fell from his hand, bounced off his lap, and fell right into the water.

Both Bentley and Sly stared down after the device, which sank facing up towards them. Even as it was completely submerged in water, the waterproof device continued to loyally count down the seconds, even as it sank. As the dark device sank into the dark waters, the red numbers were the last things to disappear, still inevitably counting down towards the devastating moments.

Bentley's eyes shot back towards Sly, even as the slab continued sliding down into the fountain's water.

Sly lifted his head one final time and stared straight into Bentley's eyes. With the same hand that activated the bombs, he reached up and sloppily removed both of the artificial contact lenses, lazily scraping them off on the slab. One fell right off the side and lightly plunked into the water. Sly's unaltered brown eyes stared straight into Bentley's soul with their stare, one of determination accompanied by sadness.

And then, through his bloody teeth, one final time: "GO."

And then Sly yanked his hand away from Bentley's, resting it back on the slab as it continued to slide into the water.

Bentley leaned back, away from the water even as his friend continued to slide helplessly into the dark, intimidating waters.

At long last, Sly's persistence and determination broke Bentley's spirit. His resistance not only crumbled, not only shattered…it completely exploded and was incinerated.

Bentley spun his chair around, leapt off the fountain's wall, and began wheeling furiously down the hall, dodging pieces of debris on the floor and as they fell around him, and wheeled as fast as he could. He didn't dare look back, even as the tears continued flying from his eyes, blowing off his face from the speed at which he was moving. He tried to shut out the sounds around him, focused only on escaping the castle, reaching the boat, and getting off the island.

He made the mistake, however, of looking back once. Just once.

The fountain was already at a great distance. But he could still clearly tell that the slab was already long gone.

After that, he never looked back again.

And so Bentley raced as fast as he could. Never before in his entire life did he move this fast…not even when he could use his legs. He remembered, even though his grief, panic, and even anger, he still remembered the way Sly had come through the castle, courtesy of the artificial lenses. He remembered every direction, every doorway, and ran through them.

As he expected, there was barely any opposition throughout the entire castle. The entire scene was plunged into pure chaos from the explosions all around the island. Sure, he saw a few guards, but they seemed almost more focused on escaping this place than noticing him. Only once did he actually have to hide, behind a column, as a small squad of six guards raced past, towards the center of the castle where the tower had fallen.

Bentley soon reached the drawbridge, which was already wide open. He raced out across it, back out into the pouring rain and savage wind, across the drawbridge, and then, finally back out onto the rocky terrain.

Bentley couldn't even begin to tell how much time had passed, but he figured that he didn't have long before the castle went.

And then, halfway down the long, winding main path, halfway between the castle and the facilities around the docks, Bentley heard the explosions.

However, for once, he didn't stop to admire his handiwork. Even now, he figured, he was probably heading down the hill and would be unable to even see the castle from this elevation, especially with the tower gone.

And so he continued. There was a significantly higher amount of guards down in the area of the barracks and the destroyed Aviary, running around and screaming wildly.

It was here, at long last, Bentley finally got a glimpse of the horrible monsters that Dr. M had warned him about, in action.

He instantly recognized the replicas of the hideous monstrous bats from Kaine Island, swooping down on multiple guards, either catching them with their claws or ripping them apart from the impact. But staying to the air higher up, Bentley saw a group of smaller versions of the Whale-Fly, now much more maneuverable than the prototype from 11 years ago. Their mouths were moving, opening and closing repeatedly, revealing rows of terrifying, shark-like teeth that lined the gums. One of them swept down and completely crushed a guard with its sheer bulk and weight. Another one swept up a guard in its mouth and shredded the man's body with its powerful jaws and daggers for teeth.

And all throughout, the various screechings and roars of the monsters were some of the most unearthly sounds Bentley had ever heard in his life.

Bentley ducked and wheeled even faster when he finally reached the flat area just at the edge of the water. Straight ahead were the docks, including their captive boat.

Bentley had just reached the wooden dock when he heard a screech above.

Bentley didn't dare turn around, but feared the worst as he could just feel something approaching from behind.

Then, with a scream, Bentley covered his head and dodged to the side.

Then: "No, NO! BLAUGH!"

Bentley lifted his head up just in time to see a guard's legs lift up out of his field of vision, just a few feet ahead of where he had been.

Bentley, once again, didn't even bother to watch what was happening, and instead simply continued racing forward towards the boat. Only briefly, as he passed under where the guard had been lifted, did he feel several warm, heavy drops of a liquid that was clearly not rain spatter onto him from above.

He reached the boat and raced up the makeshift wooden ramp placed by the guards. He reached back to knock it out of place, then raced over to the wheel. He began furiously punching away at the controls, pressing the right buttons and flipping the exact levers.

Then, he leaned over and observed as the long fins emerged out of each side of the boat, extending slowly from the hull and slowly placing the curved ends against the surface of the water. He could also feel the boat itself rising slightly and moving up into a slightly upward angle as the extensions on the underside slowly drew out to their fullest extent, raising the body of the boat itself off the water by several feet or so.

The newly-prepared hydrofoil was ready to go.

Bentley wasted no time in backing the boat out of the dock, turning it around 180 degrees, and once the boat was facing the opposite direction, back towards where it had originally come from, Bentley thrust the throttle forward and sent the boat lurching forward. It took a little while, but the newly-modified boat quickly picked up speed, aided not only by the extensions but also by the lack of the abandoned submarine.

In no time, Bentley's yacht was tearing across the ocean's surface, already putting a great distance between itself and the island with every minute…

…all while the last bomb's timer continued counting down.

…

The castle had long since almost completely crumbled to the ground. From where he was lying, he couldn't see any remaining portions of the castle's ceiling or wall around him. Perhaps because he was located under where the hole in the ceiling from the fallen tower had been, was the reason he hadn't been killed the complete, final collapse of the castle when the four corner bombs went off.

Now, it was just the elements. The wind and the rain, the clouds and the thunder and lightning.

He had no idea how he was still alive. Whether the slab had hit the bottom of the fountain, or if maybe the top end had caught on a protruding rock just beneath the surface of the water, he didn't know.

What he did know was that he was still alive, still above water. The water was loosely flowing around just on top of the slab, around his body, like a shower floor. The rain continued falling on him and around him, disturbing the water from its previously perfectly still, perfectly pristine state. The statue in the center was completely gone – only the round pedestal remained.

He had slowly rolled over and was now on his back, staring up at the cloudy sky. Even with the rough, howling weather above and around him…he felt strangely at peace.

Even now, he could feel his senses slowly fading away. He first could no longer hear the howling wind, or the pattering of the rain against the fountain water.

Then he could no longer feel the pain in his face, his hands, or his stomach.

Then he could no longer feel the cold stone that he was lying on.

Then he could no longer feel the chill of the wind, or the wetness of the rain, against his body.

Here he was, at the end of the road…in perfect solace, despite his injuries. At perfect peace, despite being alone. Perfectly satisfied, even as he could feel, hear, and see death approaching, slowly but surely.

And then there was a flash of lightning. And just like that, the darkness of the clouds vanished, transitioning into a blinding white brightness.

And then, for a moment, he regained his sense of hearing as a soft, heavenly voice fell onto his ears.

"_Sly…"_

His eyes fluttered weakly as he squinted at the bright light.

"_Sly."_

He couldn't see her, but he recognized the voice.

"…Car…"

"_Sly._"

"…Carmelita…"

"_Yes, Sly?_"

"…I'm…sorry."

"_Don't be. Look at what you have accomplished. Through all your anger, pain, and sorrow…you have triumphed."_

He thought about this for just a moment, and then realized that the voice was right.

"You…you're right."

"_Of course she is."_ Another voice added.

Even through this state, a brief wave of shock came over him at the familiarity of this voice.

"…Dad…?"

"_She's proud of you, son. As am I."_

The voice that he hadn't heard for so long broke all of his senses, or lack thereof, and he could feel a single tear welling up.

"Dad…"

And then yet another voice.

"_Yeah, it's OK, buddy. You've made all of us really proud."_

"Murray…"

"_You may have felt guilt over our deaths." _The father continued. _"But it was in our names that you fought and died. You did all of this for us."_

"_And even then, we have no reason to be sad or angry."_ The wife added. _"This is how it always ends, Sly. One way or another…we all end up back together again."_

He finally broke down and cried for the final time. But he knew that these were not tears of sadness.

"_See? All we ever feel now is happiness…"_

"…_And it will always be that way…"_

"…_for all of eternity."_

And then a fourth, larger, deeper, more powerful Voice.

"_Welcome home, My son."_

"_It's good to be home." _Sly Cooper finally spoke out, now free of all earthly feelings.

And so it was. Sly Cooper finally slipped into the next world, just seconds before the blast instantly enveloped the entire island – this Hell on Earth – in a raging inferno.

…

Bentley didn't dare look back at first, even as he could see the light reflected off the boat's surface around him as the nuclear blast went off in the distance. Even though he was safely out of range, the light still penetrated this far across the ocean. Only a few seconds afterward, when he knew it was safe to look back, did he slowly turn his head.

He just barely caught a glimpse of the orange plume just before it disappeared again, transitioning into a black cloud that was invisible from this distance, this late at night.

Bentley slowly turned his head to look back again, as the hydrofoil continued pounding through the rough waves, which were already subsiding as he drew closer and closer to the edge of the storm.

And then the waters were calmer, and the boat was soaring across a flat surface.

And then the clouds above him slowly disappeared, as the clear night sky became more visible with the clouds left behind. The stars were still glowing brightly, with the moon as the center of the entire picture, casting a calming white glow down upon the water, and the small boat that was sailing across it.

Bentley was leaving the storm behind at long last.


	12. Epilogue

Epilogue

_8 months later: Washington, D.C., United States of America; Monday, February 2__nd__, 2009, 8:16 A.M.…_

Fresh off his third inauguration, President George W. Bush had just gotten off the phone with the latest acting Prime Minister of Britain, David Cameron, with further discussions on potential reconstruction plans lined up on the horizon. The Oval Office was buzzing with activity. Occupants included, but were not limited to: Vice President Cheney, Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, Secretary of Defense Robert Gates, Attorney General Michael Mukasey, Chief of Staff Josh Bolten, CIA Director Michael Hayden, Senior Advisor Karl Rove, and even Bush's younger brother Jeb.

"Shuvalov's on standby."

"Tell him to wait a little longer. I can only handle so much at once." Bush muttered, placing a hand over his forehead.

"Being the first – and only – President since FDR to exceed two terms has kinda lost its glory, hasn't it?" Jeb commented.

"You have no idea."

"Not yet, anyway." His brother returned with a chuckle.

"Sir, Senators Obama and Clinton say they want to meet with you for a brief exchange of ideas on how to handle this reconstruction…"

"Sir, my sources tell me that one of the major questions the press will have for you at the next briefing is whether or not you want to comment on the mysterious nuclear explosion in the South Pacific…the grapevine is insisting that it was some covert operation performed by our guys, even though I've kept insisting that we have no idea who or what it came from…"

"They're already asking who you want to endorse for 2012."

"Alright, alright. Everyone…everyone!"

Bush waited until all the activity died down.

"Thank you. Everyone just take a break. We all deserve it. Even just five minutes, please."

After a few various responses, the room's occupants gradually filed out until only four remained: Bush, Cheney, Rove, and Jeb.

"Well, gentlemen." Bush started. "This is the beginning of a long, hard journey."

"But the destination will be sweet." Cheney added.

"We'll be long gone before this country and this world ever reaches the destination."

"In a way, maybe that's the most fitting way to remember it." An older voice commented.

The four men all turned to see none other than former President, and father of two of the room's occupants, George H.W. Bush enter the room.

"Sorry I'm late, boys."

"It's good to see you too, dad." George said as he walked up to his father for an embrace. Jeb did the same.

"But as I was saying. Continual reconstruction from this terrible tragedy will remind us all of our humanity. It will remind us all of the universal problems we face as a civilization. That'll be our memorial to those who died: The continual efforts to rebuild the world they left behind. And through it all, it will be the best way of putting aside our differences and avoiding another petty war like the ones we were just in. You, son, have united this world like never before. Through your bravery, your near self-sacrifice, and with a willingness to tackle the impossible. You did it. And you, Dick, and Karl, and Jeb…you all saved the free world."

The President was doing his best to hold in the few tears that were about to slide down his cheeks. "Thanks, dad."

Then a pause as the last few words from his father sank in. A slight tinge of sadness came over him, and he couldn't help but start to speak up.

"Actually, dad…I…"

"Hm?"

In that moment, Bush turned to face his Vice President. Although not a single word was exchanged between them, the expression conveyed the entire message. Perhaps as a result of the long, professional friendship they had over the last eight years and before, Cheney knew almost instantly what Bush wanted to say to his father. He wanted to tell him, and the other two men in the room, the one major secret that had been kept between the President and Vice President only. The secret about the mysterious, nameless, faceless ally who was the real reason they had managed to destroy the evil machine.

After a brief moment of consideration, Cheney shook his head.

"Uh…never mind. Now how about we all get out of here for a bit and get some fresh air?" George suggested.

"That sounds heavenly right about now." Rove added.

"Alright, alright. Let's all take a walk." The President agreed.

With his father and Vice President on his left, and his younger brother and his senior advisor on his right, the President of the United States finally left the Oval Office for the first time that day.

Had any of the five men turned around at that moment, they just might have caught a glimpse of the figure that quickly swept past the massive window behind the Resolute Desk, having witnessed the entire emotional scene with the help of a stethoscope-like device that allowed him to listen in through the walls. But although the figure would be long gone by the time the President returned, George W. Bush would eventually return to his chair and find something new on his desk, situated right in the middle for him to notice right away. And although he wouldn't recognize the symbol that it bore or the exact identity of the man it represented, he would have a hunch that it was the closest thing he would get to an answer as to whom his mysterious ally was.

A small blue and white placard in the shape of a raccoon's face.

…

_I could probably go on and on about all that has occurred in the years since it all ended. If I did that, the epilogue would probably be just as long as my chronicling of the events themselves. So I guess I'll keep it simple._

_In the wake of the successful destruction of the Death Ray, Bush's popularity soared right back up to its post-9/11 numbers, with Gallup holding him at 98%. Following the brave near-sacrifice that he and his entire staff made, very few continued to complain about his performance, as well as his executive waiving of the 22nd Amendment and the federal election processes in the event of emergency wartime. Thus, he served out a full third term – the first president to do so since Franklin Roosevelt – and all members of Congress – from the House to the Senate – remained right where they were as well, their regular terms all extended throughout the next four years (two years in the case of the House of Representatives and the select few Senators who were up for reelection as well in 2 years). As expected, the Republicans made sweeping gains in the midterm elections in 2010, gaining a supermajority of the lower chamber and coming to a slim minority in the Senate. The full election process resumed on November 6, 2012. As expected, it was a Republican sweep that would've made Ronald Reagan proud. It was, however, largely riding off Bush's coattails, as Republicans took complete control of Congress and retained control of the White House with the landslide election of Bush's younger brother Jeb, along with his charismatic and young vice president, a Florida politician by the name of Marco Rubio. It's only been a little over a year into his first term, but many political analysts and commentators are predicting that not only will he easily be reelected in 2016, but the door is wide open for Rubio to be elected in 2020 and reelected in '24, also by landslides._

_Obviously, the global reconstruction process was slow to start, but it's beginning to show promising results. Starting under George W. Bush and continued by Jeb, or "President Bush III," as some have called him, the United Nations is now the Global Reconstruction and Unification Organization. It is led by the United States, Canada, and Australia, with additional participation from Mexico and several prominent South American countries such as Brazil, Peru, and Chile, and even a few African countries such as South Africa. The main priorities include trafficking refugees to designated "decontamination areas" in remote locations such as Africa, South America, and mostly Antarctica. Subsequently, those refugees will be sent to designated "safe zones" located within the US, Australia, and dozens of islands located throughout the Pacific, Atlantic, and Indian Oceans. The other major operation, of course, is working to decontaminate certain areas that were hit by the Death Ray and attempt to make them habitable again within the next several decades. But obviously, the goal that is faster and more achievable is their top priority._

_Such a global reshifting of the entire world's stage, complete revamping of the international community, and a whole new chapter in the history of mankind...contained to just a few short paragraphs. Even I cannot comprehend this as I write it._

_And in case you're wondering; no, there hasn't been much reported on the mysterious nuclear explosion in the south Pacific, far from where the Death Ray went down and with absolutely no reports whatsoever of any nuclear missiles launched in that area. As far as the international community was concerned, there wasn't even an island in that location._

_And if there was before, it certainly isn't there now._

_But whatever the history books may record, whatever may happen over the next hundred years as the world unites to repair, rebuild, and restore as much of the damaged countries as it can, I can guarantee you this: None of them will know one very significant detail concerning the truth. None of them will know who the mysterious caped figure was who delivered the schematics to the President. None of them will know that the man who effectively saved the world from complete global domination by a terrorist organization…was the very kind of man that society would vilify. A thief. A criminal. A man considered to be the worst of us all…saved all of us. The world will never know that it was Sly Cooper who saved them._

Bentley finally paused, setting the quill pen back down on the wooden desk and taking another casual sip of wine. The candle flickered lightly beside him, casting a smooth orange glow in the immediate area. Outside, the sun was setting over the Pacific Ocean. The waves crashed against the rocks at the base of the cliff, silently, of course, with the repaired glass sliding door closed and muting the sounds of nature outside. Thus, the only thing he could hear was the tick-tocking of the grandfather clock across the room.

He glanced over at a newly-arranged display against the far wall, surrounded on both sides by other artifacts and memorabilia displayed on pedestals, and with various commemorative pictures covering the wall behind it. It was a glass case, a shadowbox, containing several of the key possessions of his late friend, including the red backpack, the two wedding rings, the picture of him and his parents, and in the center of it all, that beloved, ancient book.

Bentley smiled a wry smile before he picked up the pen again, dipping it into the ink once more before resuming.

_And so I continue on. I am the lone survivor. I am the last man standing. I have lost the love of my life. I have lost my two best friends. I have lost a vast majority of my possessions and my wealth. I contemplated staying on that island to await the nuclear blast as well. But I persevere because it is my duty, given to me by my dying friend with his final breaths. He didn't want to see one more of his close friends die because of the skeletons in his family's closet. My survival made Sly feel a lot better than I did. It was the final act of selfless camaraderie between the last two members of the once great Cooper Gang._

_But now, beyond the immediate act of my survival that Sly delegated to me in that moment, I have given myself a new task. Surviving is not nearly enough. I must continue on the Cooper Gang's legacy. Obviously, I have given up on thieving forever. I don't understand how anyone - especially a thief of honor - would dare consider such tactics in this newly-volatile world we now live in. Instead, I am living the Cooper legacy in this documentation that I am writing right now. My final act as the final member of the Cooper Gang is one that is perfectly legal. Not only is it legal, it is vital. It is imperative that I record this entire endeavor, from the Krak-Karov Volcano in June of 2006 to that small island in the South Pacific in July of 2008. Obviously, I can't even begin to imagine how I could possibly publish this and spread it across the world like it so righteously deserves to be. But all I know is that it must be recorded in any way possible. So for now, this single copy will have to do._

_As long as there is fellow man, willing to continue on despite all that has happened, then there is hope. As such, as long as this copy still exists, I will continue in my final quest. Sometime...sometime in the future...be it near or distant...this story will be known. When the time is right, the world will know. The world will know the truth. The world will know about the man who saved them._

He stopped for another sip of wine, then glanced over at yet another piece of memorabilia across the room. A special, front-page cover of _The New York Times_ published the day after President Bush's Oval Office address about a week after the destruction of the Death Ray. The title highlighted the key line from the speech, which many were already using as the name for the entire address.

BUSH: "THE WORLD IS FREE"

Bentley then quickly jotted down the final line.

_They will know that because of Sly Cooper...the world is free._

**The End**


	13. Afterword

**Afterword III: The Final Afterword**

**So here we are. At the end of the ORNWOR trilogy at long last. I don't even know where to begin on this one.**

**So this one was, by far, the least-developed at the time **_**Operation: The Third Day**_** was released. Even after **_**The Omega Project **_**was released, this story still had barely **_**anything**_** done other than the Prologue and the Epilogue. However, like with the first story, several longer, key points in the story were written ahead of time, and it was around those two major chapters that I constructed the rest of the story: **_**Revelation**_** and portions of **_**Showdown**_**, namely Belyeau's death. I had also written the first version of **_**Reconnaissance**_**, and got a lot done with that chapter…before I accidentally deleted it like a moron and had to rewrite that whole chapter from scratch. The last chapter to be completed - which wasn't even remotely started until the only other chapter left was the _Reconnaissance_ rewrite - was _Planning_.**

**And boy, a LOT changed with this story. As I mentioned before in my original draft, the premise of this story coming off of the end of the original draft of **_**The Omega Project**_** was VASTLY different. In the original story, Mz. Ruby would've been the one other surviving member of the united rogues' gallery, due to being called to this island to aid in the rapid manufacturing of the mutants, essentially serving as a combination of her minions in the original Sly 1 and the mutant army of Dr. M in Sly 3. That's why she'd survive the original ending of the original draft of **_**Villains United**_**, and thus would return for **_**Villains United 2**_**. Subsequently, the Death Ray would've already been destroyed by this point (along with Colonel Carr and the other officers, leaving only Belyeau), and this island full of mutants would be ORNWOR's last stand. The addition of a stockpile of nuclear weapons was also added in much, much later. Lastly, Murray would still be alive as well, and would aid Bentley in planting the bombs, surviving with him to the very end and escaping together. Sly's death was, ironically, the one major character death that I had set in stone from the very beginning.**

**Ultimately, the one thing that remained the same was the final act, taking place on the island – Sly's showdown with Belyeau, then Dr. M, then the island being destroyed with Bentley surviving. But the entire first 90% of the story was what changed dramatically. The decision to add in George W. Bush and the other historical characters of his administration was done somewhat suddenly, but done in order to expand the POV beyond just Sly, and also to properly convey the real-world perspective and dire consequences of this whole deal. However, the manner in which Sly receives Dr. M's message was actually reversed of this. Originally, in an homage to stuff like the Joker in **_**The Dark Knight**_** or Thomas Gabriel in _Die Hard 4_****, M's message would be anonymously broadcast across the entire Western Hemisphere by hijacking all major news feeds and internet feeds, with a special meaning in his message – that would only be understandable to Sly and the Gang – secretly revealing the location of his island just to Sly and company. This, of course, was scaled back to a small, single-screen video message being left for them after the assassin's failed attempt. Although the original Assassin from **_**Operation: The Third Day**_** did come to mind in that scene, this was in no way whatsoever meant as an homage to that character, nor an attempt at recreating him.**

**In contrast, the opening underwent numerous different versions. One such idea was an homage to the opening of _Die Hard 3_, with a bomb going off in New York City that would single-handedly bring down the entire Empire State Building. Another idea that would add a whole new level of violence and terror to the story would be an idea where some of the "defective" or "inadequate" mutants would be released from the island early, swimming free and terrorizing innocent civilians. Both ideas - for obvious reasons - were eventually overturned.**

**Several different ideas came and went with quite suddenness during the writing process. One idea that I had was to have Sly and Bentley, after getting M's message (and thus, implied to already know M's identity by this point), use the blimp to fly over the prison where McSweeney was being held and break him out in order to recruit his help in the operation. He would probably come riding in like the calvary in the blimp with a bombardment, and maybe even wind up taking on M after Sly had killed Belyeau…but this idea, to me, just seemed to add an extra, completely unnecessary plot device to the already complicated storyline, and thus, this was never fulfilled.**

**The climax also underwent quite a few versions. The original called for Sly to defeat Belyeau, as it appears in the story, and then fight Dr. M. Yes, he would actually be capable of fighting Dr. M after taking a very thorough beating, and, of course, would outsmart him somehow. This version also called for Dr. M to reveal that A) His right leg was really NOT crippled, and was just a ruse, and B) His clawed left hand would actually generate a small bolt of electricity after clacking the two prongs together three consecutive times, which he would use to electrocute Sly. There was also an idea to have Dr. M reveal that he himself was the grand final experiment, explaining how a little bit of DNA from each of the mutant monsters had been implanted inside him, and thus would give him the various abilities and powers of all the mutants, ultimately making HIM the strongest warrior of them all. This idea even – briefly – featured Dr. M mutating into a massive monstrosity…but that was WAY too much like **_**The Thing**_**. These, of course, were all removed to make it a more realistic, less action-oriented, and, in all honesty, much slower and FAR more brutal scene. But even that's not as brutal as Dr. M's original death. Sly would originally call for Bentley to blow up the tower (after the duel between Dr. M and Sly ended up knocking out the door to the elevator shaft), and the subsequent fireball would travel up the elevator shaft and shoot out the broken door, burning Dr. M to a crisp. Then, **_**Terminator**_**-style, Dr. M would be revealed to still be alive, forcing Sly to use Dr. M's discarded sword to finish him off by slitting his throat. Another explosion would rock the already-unstable tower again, sending Dr. M plunging backwards into the elevator shaft. In a last-ditch effort, he would grab one of the elevator cables, only for it to snap and wrap around his neck, also causing the elevator car to fall straight down after him. Thus, he would essentially die SEVEN different ways: Throat slit, cable around his neck, falling to his death, falling into a fire, crushed by the elevator car, destroyed in yet another explosion after his fall, and then, to top it all off, the explosion would cause Sly (who would be standing at the edge of the shaft) to drop M's sword down into the shaft after him. Obviously, EXTREMELY over-the-top, over-dramatic, and unrealistic.**

**As far as the destruction of the Death Ray, the only major difference that was written out was that, originally, I planned for Colonel Carr himself to take part in the final stand against the American jets, in a manner similar to how General Yates took on Sly and Bentley's blimp in the climax of _The Omega Project_. Written out due to its repetitive nature.**

**There was also an additional last stand for Sly after the deaths of Belyeau and Dr. M. There would be a bit of an action scene with Sly still attempting to escape the collapsing tower by jumping out the broken window with his paraglider, only to briefly come under fire by one of the helicopters belonging to Dr. M's henchmen. It would take several shots and tear through the fabric of Sly's glider right before the tower would finally collapse and fall on top of it, destroying it in a fantastic explosion right before Sly – unable to control the glider any further – would fall through the opening in the roof (caused by the falling tower) and narrowly survive by falling into a deep fountain. Lastly, he would rendezvous with Bentley in the burning, crumbling remains of the castle as the two made one final attempt to escape together…only for – in a style very similar to Murray's death in **_**The Omega Project**_** – Sly to die at the last moment when a mutant leaps onto him and kills him, with Bentley managing to subdue it long enough for Sly to give his final word to Bentley to continue on. But these kinds of deaths had been done enough, and it would be too much of a tease for Sly to survive the incredible duels with the two main villains, just to die by a single mutant henchman. His suicidal sacrifice to take down Dr. M with him was much more meaningful, and (admittedly) also saved me from writing additional chapters.**

**But like I said, this was the one and only installment for which I truly was pressed for time. Even as **_**The Omega Project**_** was being updated, this still was miles from being done, and I was worried for a while that I wouldn't be able to finish it and be able to upload each chapter weekly like I did with the first two stories. This in particular carried over with me into college, whereas the first two stories needed only minor adjustments and a few last-minute things written in before their respective releases. So this was the last bit of somewhat stressful, "will I get this done on time?" kind of work that I associate with most of my other greatest works on here, including **_**Total Drama World Tour: Second Season**_** and **_**Hostman: The Animated Series**_**. So I feel that, under this kind of pressure on a regular basis, I may have written quite a few chapters at too rushed a pace, and this story may move a LOT faster than its predecessors. I hope it's at least on par with the previous two stories, but of course, I'm just glad to finally be done with my third – and final – trilogy here on this site.**

**In all honesty, I'm proud of all three of my trilogies. From my Zutara Angst Trilogy for **_**Avatar: The Last Airbender**_**, from my **_**Second Season**_** trilogy for **_**Total Drama**_**, to this. Each is different and widely-praised for different reasons, and I'm not about to choose a favorite out of those three…although, of course, this trilogy was the one I spent the most amount of time writing, from start to finish, and in many ways, it was these stories that got me started here on this site. Like I said in the original Afterword, I was working heavily on the first two stories (and somewhat on this) before I even had an account here. And, ironically, it was these exact same stories that brought me back after what I THOUGHT was my retirement from fanfiction in general. After **_**Total Drama World Tour: Second Season**_**, I thought for sure I was done. That story had been stressful to write and finish, with lengthy hiatuses and a significant drop in reviews, and with a nice, even number like 10 stories under my belt, I thought for sure I was done. But, while I started writing **_**Hostman**_** almost on impulse, it was these stories – the second and third in the ORNWOR trilogy – that reminded me there was still work to be done. As long as these files were still gathering virtual dust on my computer, I was never truly done with fanfiction.**

**But now, I'm finally done. For good this time. Not just because I'm truly done with all my ideas, and my creative tank is now thoroughly empty, but ironically, above all else…I am now solid at 13 stories on this site. 13 just so happens to be my lucky number.**

**Maybe that's a sign.**

**So I know I put all of my emotional effort into a thorough goodbye at the end of **_**Total Drama World Tour: Second Season**_**, so I really don't want to try to one-up that, much less repeat it…but in all honesty, you don't even have to be a fan of **_**Total Drama**_** to read that Afterword, or at least the last few paragraphs. At the paragraph starting with _"…And that's pretty much all I can think of,"_ the same farewell applies equally here. It's been a long, demanding, fun, and interesting journey. Leaving this website is very bittersweet indeed. This started in my middle school days and ended in my college years. Definitely a significant amount of my life was devoted to this as my #1 favorite hobby ever. I'll never forget the time I've spent here, the stories I've written, the people I've met, the hundreds upon hundreds of positive reviews I've gotten…and the experience overall.**

**So this is it. For real, this time. I'm done. Retired. Shutting down forever from this website, and from fanfiction in general.**

**Goodbye.**

**And thanks. For everything.**


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